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THE J. PAUL GETTY MUSEUM LIBRARY 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/memoirsoflifeworOOromn 
 
« 
 

 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
MEMOIRS 
 
 OF THE LIFE AND WORKS 
 
 O F 
 
 GEORGE ROMNEY, 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 VARIOUS LETTERS, AND TESTIMONIES TO HIS GENIUS, &C. 
 
 ALSO, SOME PARTICULARS OF THE LIFE OF 
 
 PETER ROMNEY, HIS BROTHER; 
 
 A YOUNG ARTIST OF GREAT GENIUS AND PROMISING TALENTS, BUT 
 
 OF SHORT LIFE. 
 
 Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb 
 
 The steep where Fame’s proud temple shines afar ; 
 
 Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime ' 
 
 Has felt the influence of malignant star, 
 
 And poverty’s unconquerable bar. — Beattie. 
 
 Haud facile emergunt, quorum viriutibus obstat 
 Res angusta domi. — Horace. 
 
 Nature scatters the seeds of genius to the winds, and though some may 
 perish among the stony places of the world, and some be choked by the 
 thorns and brambles of early adversity, yet others will now and then 
 strike root even in the clefts of the rock, struggle bravely up into 
 sunshine, and spread over their sterile birth-place all the beauties of 
 vegetation. — Geoffrey Crayon. — Sketch Book. 
 
 BY THE REV. JOHN ROMNEY, B. D. 
 
 FORMERLY FELLOW OF ST. JOHN’S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PRINTED FOR BALDWIN AND CRADOCK, PATERNOSTER- ROW. 
 
 1 8 3 0 . 
 
[S. TYSON, PRINTER, ULVERSTON.] 
 
TO 
 
 THE MUSE OF PAINTING. 
 
 ‘H Sv to <jopnujj.a rs i^ajypcxfpis. 
 
 Muse, with the magic hand, and fervid mind, 
 
 Who dip’st thy pencil in the rays of light, 
 
 And with the rainbow tints, by taste combin’d, 
 
 Giv’st scenes of rapture to my gazing sight — 
 
 The hanging wood — the rock’s romantic height — 
 
 The giant ocean raging on the shore — 
 
 The smooth and lucid lake, like mirror bright — 
 
 Or waterfall — times past thou can’st restore ; 
 
 Placing before mine eyes, eacli splendid deed 
 Of patriot warriors, and of chieftains bold, 
 
 W ho for their country’s sake were doomed to bleed, 
 
 But have in Fame’s bright page their names enrolled — 
 Nay more; thou can’st surpass by art refin’d, 
 
 The mirror’s truth, and paint the speaking mind. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE author, when he first meditated these Memoirs, did not 
 forget the judicious advice of Horace, 
 
 versate diu, quid ferre recusent, 
 
 Quid valeant humeri ; 
 
 and certainly should, under any other circumstances than those in 
 which he was placed, have declined the undertaking : but when he 
 considered how much he was bound by duty to protect the posthu- 
 mous fame of his revered Relative, and saw with mortification that all 
 the accounts which have been given both of him and of his works 
 were either defective, false, or injurious; his scruples arising from 
 diffidence soon yielded to a more powerful impulse, and he should have 
 deemed himself guilty of very culpable indifference if he had not en- 
 deavoured to dispel the malignant cloud that hangs over his Father’s 
 memory, and to place his character in its true light; by giving 
 publicity to the documents in his possession, and by relating such 
 circumstances as were within his own knowledge respecting the file 
 
 and works of so rare a genius, which in fact none but himself could 
 
 b 
 
VI 
 
 communicate. Whatever, therefore, may be his defects, he flatters 
 himself that the candid reader, in weighing his motives and duties, 
 will acquit him of any unbecoming vanity or presumption. Had he 
 foreseen during the life of Mr. Romney, that the duty of being his 
 biographer would devolve upon himself, he certainly could have saved 
 many interesting anecdotes and characteristic traits which are now 
 absorbed in the impenetrable gulph of oblivion. Still, however, there 
 may be some who may, notwithstanding, think that he has been too 
 circumstantial : but as there is a curiosity in the public in general, to 
 know every thing respecting men who have risen to eminence by the 
 mere force of genius ; if he had had no higher motive than to gratify 
 this, he should have felt himself sufficiently justified in what he has 
 done ; but he had a more exalted object in view — he wished, as far 
 as he was able, to trace out every step in the arduous path which leads 
 to distinction, that future aspirants in that noble and fascinating art 
 might know what they had to encounter, and how to overcome — 
 for circumstances apparently trivial in themselves, often tend to illus- 
 trate the philosophy of the human mind, and to shew by what means 
 genius advances to its maturity. Seward, in his Anecdotes of dis- 
 tinguished persons , (and he was no bad judge in these matters,) says 
 “nothing is trifling in the history of genius.” And a biographer of 
 La Fontaine observes ; “ En effect, soustraire les petites circonstances 
 
vu 
 
 de la vie d ’un homme illustre, c ’est, a mon avis, derober un plaisir 
 veritable aux lecteurs curieux, et les priver des moyens les plus surs 
 de biendemeler ce qu il vaut.” 
 
 The author may, perhaps, be thought to have expressed himself 
 somewhat too strongly upon some occasions, he feels, however, that 
 he has not transgressed the bounds which truth and justice prescribe ; 
 no tenderness for the feelings or memory of others ought to preclude 
 him from doing justice to one, whose claims upon his protection were 
 superior to every other consideration. 
 
 Something may, also, be required as explanatory for the tardiness 
 of this publication. In fact, the author had no intention of writing 
 Mr. Romney’s life till many years after his decease, and was only 
 induced to do it in consequence of the errors and misrepresentations 
 of others ; his bad health, also, contributed much to delay the per- 
 formance ; not to mention other impeding causes arising from differ- 
 ent avocations. Even, when finished, it was retarded considerably 
 on account of printing ; till, at length, he met with a very intelligent 
 printer in his own neighbourhood, who has acquitted himself to the 
 satisfaction of the author, and he hopes also, to that of the public. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 P A R T I. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s Parentage. Born at 
 Dalton, page 7. 
 
 Taken from school in his eleventh year. 
 Employed by his father as a Cabinet- 
 maker for ten years. Instructed by 
 Williamson in music. Camera Ob- 
 scura. Alcliymy. Leonardi da Vin- 
 ci’s Treatise on Painting, 11. 
 
 Mr. Gardener. Mr. Lewthwaite. Chris- 
 topher Steele. His indenture, 13. 
 
 His marriage. Goes with his master to 
 York. Steele’s character. Mr. Rom- 
 ney liberated from his indenture, 18. 
 
 His first portraits. Portraits of Dogs. 
 Obtained the name of a lady by a 
 sketch when he had failed by verbal 
 description. Portrait of the Reverend 
 Doctor Symonds. Ditto of the Reve- 
 
 rend Doctor Bateman. Singular epis- 
 tle, 22. 
 
 Studied historical composition and fancy- 
 pieces. List of his pictures disposed 
 of by lottery, 24. 
 
 Account of some of them. Lawrence 
 Sterne. Heads of Lear and Cordelia. 
 Had musical parties at his house. In- 
 terluded his studies occasionally by 
 flourishing with his violin. His prices 
 before he went to London. His pic- 
 tures improve by keeping. Mr. Rom- 
 ney obliged to separate from his wife 
 and family in order to pursue more 
 advantageously his profession in Lon- 
 don, 34. 
 
 Reasons why he did not afterwards renew 
 domestic intercourse with his wife. 
 Goes to London, 38. 
 
X 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Letter to Mrs. Romney, 40. 
 
 Residence in Dove Court. Picture of 
 David Rizzio. Removes to Bearbind- 
 er’s Lane. Adam Walker’s letter, 42. 
 
 Removes to the Mews Gate. Obtains 
 the second premium for his picture of 
 the Death of General Wolfe, but is 
 afterwards unfairly deprived of it 
 through the interference and influence 
 of Sir J oshua Reynolds, attributed to 
 jealousy, which is confirmed by Mr. 
 Northcote’s observations, 49. 
 
 Visits Paris. His letter to his brother 
 Peter. Takes Chambers in Gray’s Inn. 
 Picture of the Death of King Edmund, 
 52. 
 
 Began to exhibit with the Free Society 
 in Maiden Lane. Exhibited a picture 
 of his two Brothers, 53. 
 
 Visited the North. Took lodgings in 
 Great Newport Street on his return. 
 Mr. Leigh's Family Piece. Mr. Cum- 
 berland’s portrait. His succession of 
 prices. Difficulty of imparting expres- 
 sion to a dull face, 55. 
 
 Cumberland’s illiberal notice of the pic- 
 ture of Mr. Leigh and family. Mr. 
 Romney’s diffidence, and sensitiveness 
 with respect to criticisms on his works. 
 Description of Mr. Leigh’s picture. 
 Distinction between historical, and 
 dramatic and epic painting, 59. 
 
 Picture of Sir George Warren, his Lady, 
 and daughter. Mr. Cockin, and ex- 
 tract from his poem, 60. 
 
 Pictures of Mirth and Melancholy . Cum - 
 berland's letter respecting them. His 
 Verses, 63. 
 
 Mrs. Cumberland’s portrait. Mr. Cum- 
 berland’s V erses on it, 66. 
 
 Picture of Mrs. Yates as Tragic Muse, 67. 
 
 Portrait of Major Pearson, 69. 
 
 Portrait of Humphry, 70. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s disinterested passion for 
 his art. Duke of Richmond. His 
 Royal Highness the Duke of Glouces- 
 ter. Sets off for Italy, 74. 
 
 His Journey thither. Genoa. Voyage 
 to Leghorn. Arrival at Rome, 93. 
 
 Uncandid imputation of Mr. Hayley, 94. 
 
 F ew pictures painted while at Rome, but 
 much diligence in study. The Wood 
 Nymph, 97. 
 
 Similarity between Virgil and Raflaelle, 
 
 100 . 
 
 Copy of the Transfiguration, 102. 
 
 A National Gallery for the encourage- 
 ment of British art, 105. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s danger in inadvertently 
 passing the gates of the J esuit’s Col- 
 lege, 107. 
 
 Letter from Mr. Cumberland, 109. 
 
 Leaves Rome, 110. 
 
 Letters from Humphry and Peters, re- 
 ceived at Florence. Arrives at Venice, 
 113. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s letters addressed to the 
 Honourable C. Greville, Mr. Carter, 
 and Mr. Humphry. Wortley Monta- 
 gue. His portrait, 123. 
 
XI 
 
 Head of Miss Guy, 124. 
 
 Communication from the Incorporated 
 Society of Artists, 125. 
 
 Proceeds to Parma, 127. 
 
 Oil-colour sketch from the Tempest in 
 the Correggiesque manner, 128. 
 Travels from Turin witli an Italian fen- 
 
 cing master and his wife. At Lyons 
 he separates from his fellow-travellers, 
 and proceeds alone to Paris, 132. 
 
 Arrival in London. Letter from Mr. 
 Cumberland. Is reluctantly prevailed 
 on by his friends to rent Cotes’ house in 
 Cavendish Square, 134. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Pictures painted for the Duke of Rich- 
 mond. Cumberland’s Dedication. Mr. 
 Orde and the intended picture for 
 King’s College Chapel, 13(5. 
 
 Cold caught at the Theatre and danger- 
 ous illness. Fortunate visit of Mr. 
 Cumberland. Sir Richard Jebb. His 
 picture, 137. 
 
 Mr. Payne Knight. Mr. Hayley, 138. 
 
 A list of pictures painted about this time, 
 141. 
 
 Cupid and Psyche. Sibyl. Verses on 
 Lady Warwick’s portrait, 144. 
 
 His application and studies; quickness 
 of painting and number of sitters. The 
 causes of so many unfinished pictures, 
 14(5. 
 
 His liberality in his profession and his 
 low prices, 150. 
 
 Origin of the Shakspeare Gallery. The 
 picture of the Tempest, 152. 
 
 Other intended pictures for the Shak- 
 speare Gallery. Mr. Fuseli's illiberal 
 reflection, 155. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s reprehensible intempe- 
 rance of study. Reverend Doctor 
 
 Potter. Letter from Mr. Mickle, 
 157. 
 
 Two letters from the Reverend Doctor 
 Potter. Cartoons from /Eschylus, 161. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s great ability in givingex- 
 pression. Alossa. He excelled also in 
 the other essentials of a poetic painter. 
 Purity and durability of his colouring. 
 His skill in painting Dogs. His rapid 
 manner of painting. His versatility 
 of talent, 1(55. 
 
 Some of his early associates. Picture 
 of Henderson as Macbeth. Sheridan 
 and Henderson. Their recitations, 166. 
 
 Fuseli’s extravagance, 167. 
 
 Unincreasibles. Lord Thurlow’s por- 
 trait, and his translation of the episode 
 of Orpheus and Eurydice, 168. 
 
 Lord Thurlow preferred Mr. Romney to 
 Sir Joshua, 172. 
 
 Parallel between Reynolds and Mr. 
 Romney. In fant Shakspeare attended 
 by the Passions, 174. 
 
 Portrait of Emily Bertie, 178. 
 
 Mr. Hayley’s portrait presented to Miss 
 Seward by Mr. Romney. Pictures of 
 
Xll 
 
 Serena. Lady Hamilton and the pic- 
 tures painted from her, 180. 
 
 The Spinstress, and Mr. Greville's two 
 letters respecting it, 184. 
 
 Mr. Romney visits Eartham, where he 
 painted the first portrait of Miss Sew- 
 ard. Verses written on that occasion, 
 187. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s own portrait. Portrait 
 of Gibbon. Ditto of Mr. Pitt. 
 Ditto of David Hartley. A lady in 
 the character of a Wood Nymph, 195. 
 
 Fashion of dress influenced by the pic- 
 ture of Cassandra. Verses to Mr. 
 Romney when painting Miss Shake- 
 spear, 196. 
 
 Verses by R. K. Sonnet. Sempstress 
 and Absence, 198. 
 
 Portrait of Doctor Law Bishop of Car- 
 lisle. Ditto of Mrs. Jordan. Ditto 
 of Bishoj) Watson. Reverend Doctor 
 Parr. Reverend John Wesley. Picture 
 of Miss Wallis. Verses by Miss Sew- 
 ard on receiving her portrait, 200. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman. Two letters from him, 
 203. 
 
 Two letters of the Honourable Charles 
 Greville, 210. 
 
 Portrait of Mrs. Hodges. Master Hay- 
 ley as Robin Goodfellow. Reverend 
 Doctor Paley. Portrait of Doctor 
 Markham Archbishop of York, 213. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland’s letter, 214. 
 
 Sketch of Mr. Romney’s character from 
 the Observer, 216. 
 
 Mr. Romney again visits Paris with 
 Messrs Hayley and Carwardine. Two 
 letters from him, 217. 
 
 The Infant Shakspeare nursed by Tra- 
 gedy and Comedy, 219. 
 
 Two letters from Doctor Potter, 220. 
 
 Letter from Mr. Romney, 222. 
 
 Portraits of Pamela. Ditto of Thomas 
 Paine, 223. 
 
 Miss Seward’s letter, 224. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s letter after visiting Ear- 
 tham. Mr. Cowper’s Sonnet, and 
 letter, 227. 
 
 Milton and his two daughters. Verses 
 by Mr. Cooper on the composition of 
 this picture, 229. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman's letter respecting the Casts 
 sent from Rome, 231. 
 
 The Indian Woman. Titania, 235. 
 
 Excursion to the Isle of Wight. Newton 
 making experiments with the Prism, 
 235. 
 
 Picture of Alderman Bcckford. Mrs. 
 Bosanquet and five children, 237. 
 
 Picture of Flaxman modelling the Bust 
 of Hayley, 238. 
 
 A Lady in the character of Titania with 
 children, 239. 
 
 His own portrait. Portrait of Isaac 
 Reed and his letter. Conversation 
 subject, 240. 
 
 Extract from Mr. Romney’s letter. Mr. 
 Romney’s pupils. Robinson, 242. 
 
 Mr. Flaxman and Mr. Philips. His 
 health declines. Birth of Man. Temp- 
 tation of Christ. His delusive impres- 
 sions of retirement, 246. 
 
 The Scenery of his youth. Imprudent 
 building scheme. Mr. Shee. Para- 
 lytic affection. Death. Interred at 
 Dalton. 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE, & c . 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE ROMNEY. 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 Before i enter upon the Memoirs of Mr. Romney’s life, it will, 
 I presume, he expected that I should give some account of his imme- 
 diate ancestors, partly to gratify simple curiosity and partly in order 
 to ascertain how far the bias of liis genius was influenced by family 
 circumstances. Had it not been for this latter consideration, the par- 
 ticulars respecting his family might as well, perhaps, have been con- 
 signed to oblivion. The pride of pedigree is one of the most silly and 
 vain of all pretensions, and such as can only influence men of little 
 minds, who having nothing to boast of in themselves, seek to buoy up 
 their consequence by a real, or pretended claim to a little antiquity. 
 But even if ancestorial merit did exist, it reflects no honor on the de- 
 scendant unless he himself he also meritorious. Mr. Romney had 
 little to boast of on the score of pedigree ; but surely it is much more 
 honorable for a man to raise his family by liis genius and talents, 
 than to count a few generations of men, born to eat and sleep — 
 
 B 
 
2 
 
 fruges consumere nati , — whose first ancestor that emerged from ob- 
 scurity was, perhaps, some miser, or oppressor, or one who had 
 amassed wealth by some other disreputable means. Although Mr. 
 Romney’s progenitors were of humble rank, they were nevertheless 
 respectable in society, and distinguished for virtuous habits and 
 moral worth; and, if what Juvenal says he true , — Nobilitas sola 
 est atque unica virtus , — he might justly have been proud of distinc- 
 tions in his family, more valuable and meritorious than riches or 
 titles. 
 
 His grandfather, George, was born at the village of Colby, near 
 Appleby, where his father had some property ; but on account of the 
 civil disturbances which prevailed in Appleby and its neighbourhood 
 during the protectorate of Cromwell, he was induced at early 
 age to leave his native place and migrate to Lancaster. Urged, 
 probably, by the same motive, he soon quitted that town, retired 
 across the sands, and established himself in Furness. He did not 
 marry till he was sixty years of age, but, being a man of temperate 
 habits, and blessed with a good constitution, he lived to see his cliil- 
 dren’s children, and died at the very advanced age of ninety six. A 
 younger brother of this George, being of a more enterprising dispo- 
 sition, accompanied King William to Ireland, and fought at the 
 battle of the Boyne. He afterwards settled in Ireland, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Cork, and became steward to Lord Inchiquin ; and some 
 of his descendants continued in the same situation many years after. 
 There were some other branches of the family who remained in West- 
 morland. Mr. Romney’s father, John, was by trade a carpenter, 
 joiner, and cabinet-maker, and of very extensive business. He was 
 a man of mild and placid manners, retired and contemplative in his 
 habits, correctly moral in his conduct, and unaffectedly pious. His 
 
3 
 
 notions of religion were just, being equally remote from cold philo- 
 sophy and blind enthusiasm. I well remember his saying, though 
 then a mere boy, that it was our interest to make up our minds to 
 the faith of the Christian religion ; because, if it should not prove true, 
 we were still benefited by it ; but if it should, of which there was no 
 good reason to doubt, how great then would be our recompense! 
 The veneration in which I held this just man, will appear from the 
 following circumstance, which I hope the candid reader will not be 
 offended at my introducing here. I dreamt when at school, that a 
 relation had come to inform me of his death ; saying that there was 
 inscribed on his coffin this motto, sic peril Jios rosa? fragrantis ; 
 meaning, that, as the rose after it was withered still retained its 
 fragrance, so the sweet odour of his inoffensive and pious life would 
 survive his mortal remains. I have seen something like the senti- 
 ment since ; but at the time, the idea and manner of expressing it 
 were quite new to me. 1 place no faith in dreams, but, having heard 
 of his illness, I attribute it entirely to the influence of my own reflec- 
 tions when awake*; it seemed, however, to have come upon me like 
 a supernatural afflatus. The impression upon my mind was so 
 strong, that the next day I told a schoolfellow, that, in consequence 
 of a dream, I expected to hear of my grandfather’s death ; — which 
 information came by the next post. — Ever, indeed, shall 1 feel grate- 
 ful for the moral and religious impressions which I received in early 
 youth from the precepts and example of this amiable progenitor ; 
 who by his strict probity, disinterestedness, and singleness of heart, 
 had obtained among his acquaintance the characteristic epithet, ho- 
 nest ; a title which had also been conferred upon his father before 
 him. 
 
 * Maxime reliqiuae earum rerum moventur in animis et agitantur, de quibus vigilantes 
 aut cogitavimus, aut egimus. — Cic. de Divin. 
 
4 
 
 Notwithstanding- the disadvantages of his station and circumstances, 
 he had nevertheless enriched his mind with much science and g-eneral 
 
 o 
 
 knowledge. The books which he read, were above the capacity of 
 common readers, and such as could only engage the attention of su- 
 perior minds. In the line of his business he was remarkable for 
 ingenious contrivance and practical skill. He had a taste for draw- 
 ing, was an architect, an engineer, and an agriculturist. Every 
 thing within the grasp of the human intellect, was an object of inte- 
 rest to his inquisitive mind. He was employed in constructing all 
 the engines which were in use at that time for raising water from 
 the neighbouring iron mines ; and was well versed in that kind of 
 mechanics. Take a second Triptolemus, he introduced many im- 
 provements in agriculture into his own neighbourhood, being a great 
 experimentalist. His estate being on the sea coast, he was the first 
 that began to manure his land with mussels ; for, being a stiff clay, 
 it was fertilized as well by the shells, as by the fish. In those days, 
 when the science of agriculture was so little understood, he contrived 
 an apparatus for chopping whins (furze;) which he used to give inter- 
 mixed with straw, as fodder, to his cattle in winter. In his excur- 
 sions to Liverpool, or other distant places, whither his business some- 
 times called him, his attentive eye lost nothing that could benefit the 
 district in which he lived. Instead of clog-wheels, which til! then 
 were in general use in Furness, he introduced the spoke-wheels ; 
 which being lighter in their construction, and in every respect better 
 fitted for use, were soon afterwards universally adopted. He made, 
 also, some important improvements in the structure of the plough, 
 and it was to his ingenuity that agriculturists are indebted for the 
 iron mould-hoard, which was cast according to his model, and first 
 introduced into practice by himself; and which, from its form, was 
 so well adapted to the purpose of turning the furrow-slice, that, 1 
 
5 
 
 believe, it lias remained unaltered to the present time. — He even 
 earned his experiments so far as to attempt to construct a plough to 
 go hy wind. The first mahogany brought from the West Indies into 
 Furness, if not into Lancashire, came in the form of a sailor’s chest ; 
 and out of this he made a chest of Drawers, which was the first 
 mahogany furniture introduced into that country. Prior to that, 
 walnut or cherry-tree were in general use. His genius was as 
 expert in making a fiddle, as in constructing, or embellishing a gen- 
 tleman’s mansion. Every structure in wood, however great, or how- 
 ever small, was within the compass of his abilities. From the extent 
 of his business, notwithstanding his numerous family, (for he had ten 
 sons and one daughter,) he might easily have grown rich, had he not 
 had his infirmities; for genius and infirmity too frequently go hand 
 in hand. He wanted exertion to collect his debts, and even to 
 record them ; no man ever felt less anxious about wealth, if he was 
 but employed, he cared not who had the profit. His guileless simpli- 
 city, and confidence in other people’s honesty frequently, also, exposed 
 him to losses. Had he, however, been wealthy, he would probably 
 have wasted his riches in expensive projects; as his genius led him 
 strongly to that kind of speculation. Notwithstanding, however, this 
 negligence in the management of his affairs, he was enabled to give 
 a decent education to his children ; and, at his death, to bequeath 
 to George, his oldest surviving son, a small estate in Furness, and to 
 his other children, proportionate legacies. His wife’s name was Ann 
 Simpson, she was born at a place called Sladebank in Milloni, Cum- 
 berland, which estate belonged to her father. She was a clever 
 woman, and well qualified to assist her husband in the management 
 of his pecuniary affairs; but the important duties of a mother 
 claimed her undivided attention. Her mother’s name was Bridget 
 Park, she was born at Mill wood, near Dalton, and w as the grandaughter 
 
6 
 
 of that Thomas Park, who has distinguished himself by writing a 
 narrative of the intestine broils and commotions that afflicted Furness 
 in the civil war between the king and parliament; he being during 
 that unhappy period high constable of Furness, (from 1642 to 1647;) 
 and who from the nature of his office, might justly have said in the 
 words of iEneas ; 
 
 quseque ipse miserima vidi, 
 
 Et quorum pars magna fui 
 
 [See West’s Antiquities of Furness.] 
 
 All his sons died before the meridian of life, except George and 
 James; the latter was a Lieut. Colonel in the Honorable East India 
 Company’s service, and much respected both in his professional, and 
 private character. He was a man of gentlemanly demeanour, had 
 a taste for literature, could write complimentary verses to the ladies, 
 and trifle agreeably on the violin. I have an account by him of the 
 siege of Darwar, in the East Indies, at which he was present when 
 a lieutenant ; and several manuscript comedies, written in so slo- 
 venly a hand, that I have not hitherto had leisure to decipher them. 
 
 There was another son, besides George, gifted with such fine 
 talents, that he ought not to be passed over in silence ; though the 
 page which records his genius, must also expose his infirmities. 
 Much has been said cte infortunio literatorum ; but that misfortune, 
 which seems so often to be the fate of men of genius, may, perhaps, 
 be accounted for from this principle, which is applicable to mecha- 
 nism in general — the finer the organization, the more liable it is to 
 injury. A high susceptibility of feeling, and a powerful imagination, 
 are generally the concomitants, if not the constituents of genius ; 
 these, I apprehend, result from a superior organization of the nerves 
 
7 
 
 which communicate between the senses and the brain — the seat of 
 mind or of the reasoning* faculty : when, therefore, the nerves become 
 affected by any exciting cause, the feelings and imagination imme- 
 diately participate ; and if the cause be powerful, the delicate struc- 
 ture of the nerves becomes overstrained and forced ; hence reason 
 becomes implicated in the disorder and loses its control — then follows 
 error, afterwards, misfortune. Besides, where there is genius there 
 is generally a certain elevation of soul, which makes the possessor 
 despise those low and mean practices by which vulgar minds prosper. 
 Peter (for so he was called after a brother of his grandfather) was 
 endued by nature with all those qualities of mind which constitute 
 genius ; his disposition, also, was amiable and virtuous ; and had he 
 been so fortunate as to have been subject to the controlling influence 
 of some benevolent mentor when he entered extremely young and 
 ignorant of mankind into the world ; he might have been a splendid 
 ornament to his profession. Beside painting, he had a turn for poe- 
 try and music ; but having embraced the first, he had little leisure 
 for the cultivation of the other sister arts. — See the appendix. 
 
 GEORGE ROMNEY was a native of Lancashire, and born at 
 Beckside, adjoining to the town of Dalton, in Furness, on the 15th 
 of December, O. S. 1734; which place his father afterward sold, and 
 piu’chased in the year 1742, (as appears by the Title deeds,) a small 
 estate, called Upper Cocken, in the same parish, about a mile west 
 of Furness Abbey. I am the more particular in mentioning this cir- 
 cumstance, because some have asserted that he was born at the latter 
 place. Here, however, he undoubtedly did reside from his eleventh 
 to his twenty first year. He had an older brother, named W illiam, 
 who was intended for the university, and was instructed in 
 classics, along with Dr. Postlethwaite, the late master of Trinity 
 
8 
 
 College, Cambridge, also of the same age, and born in the same 
 town. Though William made great progress in scholarship, and 
 might have had the advantage of being sent to Trinity College under 
 the same circumstances, and with the same recommendation as Mr. 
 Postlethwaite ; yet he, either from the report of fortunes acquired in 
 the West Indies, or from its being the rage at that time for the 
 youth in the neighbourhood to go thither; preferred being appren- 
 ticed to one of the wealthy merchants of Lancaster, and placed in 
 his stores in the West India Islands — a situation attended with more 
 expense to his father, than that, of being sent a sizar to Trinity Col- 
 lege. But George not making much progress in school learning, 
 and being, moreover, of a sedate and steady disposition, was taken 
 from school in his eleventh year, to be employed at home, where his 
 services were wanted. 
 
 During the ten years that he continued with his father, while his 
 genius was struggling in obscurity, and labouring under every dis- 
 advantage ; not much is known of its operations, or of the manner by 
 which it began to unfold itself: but it is probable that it might 
 have received the first impulse from having observed his ingenious 
 father make drawings of ornaments and architecture. Of his skill 
 and ingenuity in carving, the violin which he made for himself, and 
 which is now in my possession, is a curious specimen and a suffi- 
 cient proof. 
 
 In his leisure hours he devoted himself to higher objects. There 
 was at that time living at Dalton, a very ingenious man, of the 
 name of Williamson, a watch-maker by trade, who had great influ- 
 ence in directing his pursuits. This person, being a masterly per- 
 former on the violin, taught him to play upon that delightful 
 
9 
 
 instrument ; and I have heard him say, that he once accompanied 
 Williamson to Whitehaven, where he had the good fortune to hear 
 Giardini perform ; with which he was so much transported, 
 that it was sometime a struggle in his mind, whether he should 
 devote himself to painting or music. Gainsborough, also, was 
 equally enraptured when he heard the same performer at Bath; 
 hut with this remarkable difference of feeling — that he wished for 
 the instrument, and Mr. Romney, the art, — It was, however, one of 
 the peculiarities of Gainsborough’s eccentric mind, to become ena- 
 moured of almost every kind of instrument, on which he happened to 
 hear any able musician perform. Tliis strange propensity must have 
 arisen from the ardour and impetuosity of his genius, which, over- 
 looking all intermediate steps, hounded at once upon that which he 
 thought would lead directly to excellence. 
 
 Williamson was a philosopher, and explained to his youthful pupil 
 the phenomena of the Camera Obscura; and it would be no extra- 
 vagant idea, to suppose that the latter might have received his first 
 impressions of picturesque representation by contemplating objects 
 thus exhibited ; it is quite as plausible as the story of the Corinthian 
 maid ; for Mr. Romney being then a pupil of nature, knew no more 
 of art than the daughter of Dibutades. Williamson was likewise an 
 enthusiast in the science of alchymy, and devoted much of his time 
 to that unprofitable pursuit; and Mr. Romney, by associating with 
 him, did not escape the allurements of that delusive study; but his 
 friend’s bad success, co-operating with his own improving judgement, 
 soon put to flight the airy dreams of wealth, which had beguiled his 
 youthful imagination. The circumstances, however, which had at- 
 tended some of Williamson’s unsuccessful experiments, had made so 
 deep an impression upon Mr. Romney’s memory, that in his declining 
 
 c 
 
10 
 
 age he used sometimes to amuse himself with the idea of constructing a 
 Melodrame upon them. It was his intention to have made a series 
 of drawings, representing the progress of an alchymist in quest of the 
 philosopher’s stone. The sanguine expectations of the philosopher 
 were to have been heightened in every scene, but as he approached 
 the crisis of the discovery, and was about to reap the golden recom- 
 pense of all his toils; an ill-timed and prying curiosity in his wife, 
 ignorant of his sublime pursuits, made frustrate, by one single inter- 
 dicted act, the consecutive experiments of years: a tremendous ex- 
 plosion then took place, the devil himself appeared ; — but, instead of 
 gold, there remained nothing but broken crucibles ; and all those 
 glittering visions, which had so long figured in his imagination, va- 
 nished at once in smoke, 
 
 come furno leve 
 
 A1 vento. 
 
 The catastrophe was suggested by a similar accident that befel William- 
 son in his chymical processes ; who, it should seem, had a wife ill 
 able to withstand the temptations of curiosity : whatever, however, were 
 the infirmities of this woman, he certainly had not the character of 
 being a good husband, though a clever fellow. When he came to 
 live at Dalton he had left her, and co-habited with another woman, 
 by whom he had afterwards four children, and whom he ultimately 
 married on the death of his wife. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland, in his brief Memoir of Mr. Romney, has asserted, 
 that he conceived liis first idea of becoming a painter from copying 
 the cuts in a magazine, borrowed from a workman of his father’s ; 
 and has dwelt with unbecoming levity upon circumstances, not only 
 false in themselves, but made ridiculous; more with a view to display 
 his own wit, than to elicit the truth of facts. Mr. Romney’s father 
 
11 
 
 certainly did take in the universal magazine, several numbers of which 
 remained in the family many years after ; but the cuts which they 
 contained, consisting of portraits and armorial healings, were not of 
 a character to inspire him with a love for art; though he might, per- 
 haps, have amused himself by copying some of the heads. He had, 
 however, a much better instructor — Leonardo da Vinci’s Treatise on 
 Painting, illustrated by a great number of good engravings. From 
 this scientific book he must, undoubtedly, have derived much valua- 
 ble information respecting the first principles of his art. It is a cu- 
 rious cir cumstance, and, perhaps, not unworthy of notice, as it shews 
 his strong propensity for drawing ; that, whenever he inscribed his 
 name in a book, he generally surrounded it with a beautiful drawing 
 of ornaments, either by pen, or pencil. In Da Vinci’s treatise his 
 name is twice inscribed — in 1754 and 1755 — and ornamented in this 
 manner; which, also, proves, that this book was in his possession 
 the year before he went to Steele, and probably sooner. His name 
 is likewise written in Le Brim’s Passions, dated 1 755, and with simi- 
 lar decorations ; so that this also, may be regarded as an elementary 
 book in liis possession before he left home. As Reynold’s enthusi- 
 asm for art is said to have been strongly excited by the perusal of 
 Richardson’s Treatise on Painting ; so the genius of Mr. Romney 
 may be supposed to have received as powerful an impulse from the 
 study of Da Vinci ; especially as the volume also contains a life of 
 the author, and a preface by the translator ; both tending to inspire 
 elevated sentiments respecting the art of painting. 
 
 There was another book, belonging to his father, called Art's 
 Masterpiece (18mo,) which contained some useful instructions re- 
 specting- the art of limning or painting in oil; from this, also, it is 
 probable that he might have acquired some practical knowledge of 
 the process and mechanism of colours. 
 
Nothing contributes more to fan the flame of genius than the 
 consociation of congenial spirits; if a man of genius has no one to 
 participate in his feelings, his enthusiasm will smoulder and die: 
 no brand will burn alone, but if more be added, the process of 
 ignition will advance. Mr. Romney might have remained, — like some 
 gem buried in its native mine, — lost to the world; had not a lady, 
 enthusiastically fond of art and endued with fine taste, come, and 
 like some inspiring genius, roused the dormant energies of his mind. 
 She was a Mrs. Gardner, the sister of Mr. Alderman Redman of 
 Kendal, an Upholsterer, with whom Mr. Romney’s father was con- 
 nected in business. This intercourse in trade caused an intercourse 
 of friendship, which was the motive that brought her as a visitant to 
 his father’s house. She soon perceived by the specimens which he 
 had produced, that he had a brilliant genius, capable of acquiring 
 great lustre in the profession of a painter; she, therefore, encouraged 
 him by every means to cultivate it. He was in consequence prevailed 
 upon to make a drawing of her, which met with the highest approba- 
 tion, and was, I believe, his first essay in portraiture. To this lady 
 the world is chiefly indebted for eliciting the hidden sparks of his 
 genius ; who might, therefore on that account, be regarded as the 
 foster-mother of his art; while, at the same time, she was, also, the 
 real mother of a child, who afterwards became distinguished as a 
 fashionable crayon painter, viz. — Daniel Gardner — who in Ids turn, 
 received instructions from Mr. Romney before he left Kendal. 
 
 At length, Mr Romney gave such decisive indications of talent, 
 and manifested such a growing enthusiasm for the art of design, that 
 it was deemed advisable, by all means to place him under some able 
 master. Mr. Lewthwaite of Broadgate, in Millom, an intimate friend 
 and relation, was particularly instrumental in prevailing on his father 
 
13 
 
 to take this step. There was at that time figuring away at Kendal, 
 an itinerant painter of some celebrity, whose name was Steele ; but 
 who, having been at Paris, and having adopted the French manners 
 and style of dress, and being withal of a showy appearance, had ac- 
 quired the nickname of Count Steele. This person being thought 
 the most proper for instructing Mr. Romney, liis father accordingly 
 took him to Kendal; where, having had an interview with the Count, 
 the business was soon settled. The following Indenture, which has 
 been luckily preserved, will show the conditions. 
 
 INDENTURE. 
 
 Articles of Agreement indented made concluded and agreed 
 upon the twentieth day of March in the year of our Lord one thou- 
 sand seven hundred and fifty five between John Romney of the 
 parish of Dalton in Furness in the County Palatine of Lancaster 
 Cabinet-maker and George Romney son of the said John Romney 
 of the one part and Christopher Steele now of Kirkby- Kendal in 
 the County of Westmorland Pointer of the other part; — 
 
 Witnesseth that whereas the said George Romney hath with the 
 consent of his said father testified by his being a party hereto and 
 sealing and delivering of these presents placed and bound himself 
 apprentice unto the said Christopher Steele to be taught and in- 
 structed iu the art or science of a Painter which he the said Chris- 
 topher Steele now useth and with him as an apprentice to dwell 
 continue and serve from the day of the date hereof unto the full 
 end and term of four years thence next ensuing and fully to be 
 compleat and ended. Therefore he the said John Romney doth 
 hereby for himself his heirs executors and administrators covenant 
 promise and agree to and with the said Christopher Steele 
 
14 
 
 bis executors and administrators and the said George Romney 
 doth hereby voluntarily consent and agree that he the said George 
 Romney during all the said term of four years his said master well 
 faithfully and diligently shall and will serve and his lawful and 
 reasonable commands willingly perform the secrets of his said 
 master faithfully shall keep hurt to his said master he shall not do 
 nor willingly suffer to be done by others and shall be of good and 
 orderly behaviour at all times towards him the said Christopher 
 Steele and that he the said John Romney his executors or admi- 
 nistrators shall and will din ing all the said term at Ms and their 
 own expence find and provide for the said George Romney suita- 
 ble and necessary cloaths both linnen and woollen. 
 
 And the said Christopher Steele for and in consideration of the sum 
 of twenty one pounds in hand paid or secured to lie paid to the 
 said Christopher Steele by the said John Romney he the said Chris- 
 topher Steele doth hereby covenant promise and agree to and with 
 the said John Romney his executors and administrators that he the 
 said Christopher Steele shall and will duiing all the said term of 
 four years according to the best of his skill and knowledge teach 
 and instruct or cause to be well and sufficiently taught and in- 
 structed the said George Romney in the same art or science of a 
 Painter and shall and will also find and allow unto the said appren- 
 tice meat drink washing and lodging suitable and convenient for 
 such an apprentice during the term aforesaid. In witness whereof 
 the parties have hereunto interchangeably set their hand and seals 
 the day and year first above written.” 
 
 Sealed and delivered (being duly) 
 stamped) in the presence of us f 
 
 “Thos. Ash burner.” 
 
 “Jas. Dowker.” 
 
 “John Rovjnev.” 
 “George Romney.” 
 
 “ Ch ristr. Steele.” 
 
15 
 
 Mr. Romney may now be considered as loosened from the shackles 
 of his untoward fate, and emerging from obscurity ; yet still he had 
 many difficulties to encounter, and many obstacles to surmount. 
 Steele, at tbe beginning, was far from being a good master, he 
 treated him more like a servant than a pupil, and hurt his feelings by 
 imposing upon him menial offices : besides, he did not allow him 
 sufficient opportunities and facilities of study, but employed him 
 chiefly in grinding colours, and in the drudgery of the art. It is but 
 justice, however, to say, that he behaved much better afterwards ; 
 more, perhaps, with a view to indulge his own idle habits, than to 
 promote the improvement of his pupil : however this may have been, 
 Mr. Romney certainly did acquire considerable knowledge in the 
 preparation and mixing of colours, either directly by his own obser- 
 vation and practice, or by his master’s instruction ; for there is, even 
 in his earl iest productions, a singular clearness and sweetness of tone 
 in the colouring, far beyond what might have been expected from so 
 young an artist. Steele was not so vile a dauber as he has been re- 
 presented by Mr. Cumberland ; he could paint a tolerable portrait 
 for those days, and had, while at Paris, received some instructions 
 from Carlo Vanloo, a painter at that time of considerable repute. 
 
 Men of brilliant imaginations and great sensibility, are the most 
 susceptible of the impressions of love. Poets and Painters have ever 
 been distinguished for their propensity to this powerful passion, which 
 is in fact an affection of the imagination. Mr. Romney’s mind was 
 constituted of such elements as naturally conduce to its production ; 
 he had a nice perception of what is beautiful in the forms of nature ; 
 an imagination that exaggerated its realities ; and a quick suscepti- 
 bility of impression from such objects as delighted his fancy — the 
 consequence was, that he became enamoured of a young female, into 
 
16 
 
 whose society lie had happened to be introduced soon after he came 
 to Kendal. The object of his affection was placed in the same 
 l ank of life with himself, and respectably connected in the town of 
 Kendal. She excelled more in symmetry of form, than in regula- 
 rity of features ; yet in this latter particular she was far from defici- 
 ent. She had had the misfortune to lose her father when she was a 
 child, who died after a lingering- and expensive illness, leaving a 
 widow with two infant daughters in impoverished circumstances. 
 Her mother, however, was an amiable and prudent woman, and dis- 
 charged her maternal duties to the best of her ability, instilling into 
 the minds of her children the principles of morality and religion, and 
 illustrating her precepts by her own correct example. — Such were 
 the circumstances relating to Mary Abbot ; who had the fortune, or 
 misfortune, to gain the affections of George Romney. 
 
 In the mean time, Steele having suddenly determined to cpiit 
 Kendal, and go to reside at York, his pupil was accordingly instructed 
 to make immediate preparation to accompany him. This intimation 
 came like a thunderbolt, sudden and overwhelming. The prospect 
 of a separation of long and uncertain duration cast a gloom over the 
 anxious lovers, which nothing seemed likely to dispel hut the security 
 of wedlock — they were, therefore, married a few days before Mr. 
 Romney set off for York. This precipitate and apparently improvi- 
 dent step, drew down upon him the reproof of his parents : in re- 
 ply, he endeavoured to justify his conduct, and l think with argu- 
 ments of considerable weight; these are his very words — “if you 
 consider every thing deliberately, you will find it to be the best affair 
 that ever happened to me ; because, if I have fortune, 1 shall make 
 a better painter than l should otherwise have done; as it will be a 
 spur to my application : and my thoughts being now still, and not 
 
17 
 
 obstructed by youthful follies, I can practise with more diligence 
 and success than ever.” I have no doubt myself but it was highly 
 advantageous to liis professional pursuits, and contributed essentially 
 to his future excellence. His affections and feelings being thus 
 gratified and his mind at ease, he devoted himself to his art with 
 the most determined industry. From the time of his marriage till 
 he finally quitted Kendal, his application was incessant ; and 
 having no models to study from but those of nature, lie acquired 
 a style peculiar to himself, which, though much refined and im- 
 proved by future study and practice, he never afterwards entirely 
 changed. 
 
 While at York, he was frequently supplied with money by his wife, 
 who used to send it, half a guinea at a time, concealed under the seal 
 of a letter ; and he sent her his own portrait, the first he ever drew 
 in oil. — I remember it well, it was hard and laboured, and had all 
 the appearance of a first essay. 
 
 After staying nearly a year at York, Steele returned a few weeks 
 before his pupil, leaving him to finish those portraits which he him- 
 self was too indolent to complete : thus Mr. Romney was enabled to 
 receive payment for them, and to discharge his master’s debts. This 
 was, I believe, the only time he ever quitted a town without leaving 
 some demand unsatisfied : indeed, such were his thoughtless and 
 extravagant habits, that he involved himself in debt wherever he 
 went ; and was frequently under the necessity of skulking, in order 
 to shun the unwelcome gripe of the unrelenting bailiff : his gaiete de 
 coeur and nonchalance were, however, superior to every consideration 
 of this kind, and never forsook him, even under the most trying cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 D 
 
18 
 
 The painter and his pupil next proceeded to Lancaster, where they 
 sojourned a short time ; but not meeting with sufficient employment, 
 Steele determined to sail for Ireland : Mr. Romney, however, had 
 had already so much experience of his master’s irregular habits and 
 eccentric conduct, that he felt great reluctance to accompany him ; 
 besides, being now a married man, he anxiously wished to be freed 
 from his indenture, that he might practise on his own account. It 
 happened that Steele in his embarrassments had borrowed money of 
 his pupil, at different times, to the amount of ten pounds ; wliich be- 
 ing unable to repay, it was suggested to Mr. Romney by one of his 
 friends, to make the following proposal : — that he would cancel the 
 debt, provided his master would give him his indenture. — The terms 
 were accepted, and the young painter became liis own master, to his 
 inexpressible delight. 
 
 Now all impediments to liis application being removed, and he 
 himself at liberty to act according to liis own discretion, he immedi- 
 ately commenced the public profession of a portrait-painter, notwith- 
 standing that he had been little more than two years a student in the 
 art. Though the theatre of his first essays was only a small provin- 
 cial town, yet such was the state of society there at that time, and in 
 the neighbourhood, that it comprised within its circle several gentle- 
 men of good education and of liberal minds, who felt the influence 
 of genius, and knew how to appreciate its merits — Mr. Romney was 
 no sooner known than he was respected and courted. In a manu- 
 facturing town, it cannot be supposed that there were many who had 
 acumen sufficient to distinguish, and taste enough to admire, the 
 growing talents of a young artist ; it is only wonderful that there were 
 any. That there were others, also, of a different description, will 
 appear from the following circumstance. Soon after he came to 
 
19 
 
 Steele, lie was requested by him to carve a frame for a particular 
 portrait which he was then painting-. While Mr. Romney was pri- 
 vately eng-ag-ed in this employment, he was accidentally seen by two 
 of the principal inhabitants, who expressed their astonishment that 
 so ing-enious a carver should turn painter. 
 
 The first production of his pencil was the representation of a hand 
 holding a letter, which he painted for the post-master at Kendal ; 
 and which continued long- to distinguish the window of the post-office 
 in that town. And the two first portraits he painted, were two half- 
 lengths of Mr. Walter Strickland, of Sizergh, and his lady. From 
 this gentleman he received much kind attention, who invited him 
 frequently to Sizergh, and afforded him every facility to copy some 
 excellent portraits there. One was that of Sir William Strickland, 
 by Lely; the other two were, I believe, by the French painter Rigaud; 
 one the portrait of a Bishop of Namur, the other of a French admiral; 
 both ancestors of the Strickland family. He must, undoubtedly, 
 have derived considerable improvement from copying these works ; 
 for, in hict, they were the only pictures by other masters, that he had 
 had any opportunity of studying, almost of seeing, before he went to 
 London. Mr. Strickland seems to have formed a just opinion of his 
 talents, and to have anticipated his future excellence. This gentle- 
 man, dying soon after, was succeeded by his brother Charles, who 
 also had his portrait painted by Mr. Romney. This latter was a 
 full-length figure, about two feet high, upon a kit-cat canvass. He 
 is represented sitting with a fishing-rod in his hand, and a waterfall 
 in the Kent, near Sizergh, called the Force, is introduced in the back- 
 ground. He painted several other full-length portraits of the same 
 size ; two ol which I must not omit to mention on account of the 
 dogs with which they are accompanied. One is the portrait of Mr. 
 
20 
 
 Jacob Morland, of C apple tli waite, in his shooting’ dress; with his 
 favourite pointer. No representation can approach nearer to the 
 truth of nature than the portrait of this dog- ; the sleekness of the 
 skin, and the characteristic sagacity of the animal are so well depict- 
 ed as to give it the appearance of reality. The other is the por- 
 trait of Colonel George Wilson, of Abbot Hall, Kendal. This 
 gentleman is represented leaning against a rock, attended by three 
 beautiful spaniels. The dogs are painted in a style that would do 
 credit to the pencil of Snyders. The picture is now at Dallam 
 Tower. It is a tribute due to the liberal and enlightened mind of 
 the Colonel, to mention, that he took a lively interest in the success 
 of the young painter, his townsman. Indeed, there was a general 
 feeling in his favour : and every individual of any consequence in 
 the town and neighbourhood, felt a personal participation in the 
 anticipated celebrity of a youth, who had sprung up, as it were, from 
 the bosom of their society. Besides tins picture, there are two others 
 at Dallam Tower, which may be noticed here ; partly on account of 
 their merit, and partly, as being specimens of his skill at different 
 periods of his life. One is a large half-length of the Reverend 
 Daniel Wilson, late of Lancaster, in his clerical dress; which was 
 painted in 1707, during Mr. Romney’s second visit to the north. 
 The other is a three-quarters portrait of Mrs. Wilson, a very plea- 
 sing picture, and sweetly coloured : it was painted about 1784, when 
 lie had acquired his best manner. — At Sizergh, besides the pictures 
 air eady mentioned, there is another kit-cat, of the Reverend William 
 Strickland sitting in Ids study, and intended as a companion to that 
 oi his brother Charles; and a half-length of Mrs. Strickland, the 
 wife of the last named gentleman : both these were painted a short 
 time before he went to London. 
 
21 
 
 Soon after Mr. Romney came to Kendal he happened to see a lady 
 in church, whose beauty was so attractive as to excite in him a strong- 
 curiosity to know who she was. He accordingly took the first oppor- 
 tunity to describe her person to an acquaintance, who had a general 
 knowledge of the inhabitants ; hut without success : he then took his 
 pencil and drew her head, by which means' he obtained the unshed- for 
 information ; as the truth and accuracy of the sketch immediately 
 brought her to the recollection of his friend. I mention this as a 
 proof of the correctness of his memory, as far as regards objects of 
 form ; for it does not appear that it was in other respects remarkably 
 tenacious. The way in which I should attempt to account for this 
 peculiarity in him, and in all those who excel in the art of delineating 
 objects; is, by attributing to them a finer structure of the organs of 
 vision, by which a more refined perception of pleasurable sensation is 
 communicated to the sensorium from the contemplation of picturesque 
 forms ; and, consequently, a deeper and more lasting impression is 
 left upon the mind. The same may be said of the musician ; whose 
 capability of receiving high gratification from the harmonious combi- 
 nation of sounds, whose quick perception of dissonance, and whose 
 strong retention in memory, of such combinations as are in accor- 
 dance with the true principles of harmony ; may, in like manner, be 
 owing to the exquisite formation of the organs connected with the 
 sense of hearing. It is this refined organization, operating through 
 the medium of the nerves and sensorium upon the imagination, which 
 produces that pre-eminence of faculty called genius , — that dear, but 
 dangerous gift, — which may either he a bane, or a blessing ; conferred 
 by the Author of nature before the infant has imbibed from its mother’s 
 breast the sustenance of life. 
 
 Estjubar infusum menti cum flamine vita*; 
 as Du Fresnoy has justly said. 
 
22 
 
 The wife of the Rev. Dr. Simonds, vicar of Kendal, was very de- 
 sirous of having* a portrait of her husband, hut he could not he pre- 
 vailed upon to sit; the only expedient, therefore, that could he 
 devised in order to gratify the lady’s wish, was, to catch his likeness 
 while he was performing the duty in church. By these means Mr. 
 Romney was enabled to produce a portrait perfectly satisfactory to 
 the parties concerned. He also painted the portraits of several other 
 clergymen, and, among the rest, that of the Rev. Dr. Bateman, the 
 celebrated master of Sedbergh school. The charge for this picture 
 (two guineas) remained unpaid when Mr. Romney returned to Ken- 
 dal in 1765; and when he applied for it, he received the following 
 singular epistle, which excited no little merriment at the learned 
 Doctor’s expense. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 s ' I must take the liberty of expostulating* a little with you about your 
 mean and tergiversating behaviour, with regard to your promise of 
 drawing my picture over again at your return from London, with an ad- 
 dition to the price. Did you agree to that, or did you not ? Y on know you 
 did. And yetyou now fly from your word, as you are going, as you think, 
 out of my reach, for you shall certainly have a Writ upon you for non- 
 performance of contract ; for your brother confessed to me that you 
 agreed to what you had so solemnly promised to myself. But I shall not 
 only do this, but I shall represent you in your proper colours (to bor- 
 row a term of your art) both here and to your friends at London, un- 
 less you perform your agreement. You will also see yourself and 
 your behaviour painted in one of the public papers ; as I am per- 
 suaded it is one of the most flagrant and scandalous breaches of faith 
 I ever met with, and therefore merits a public exposition, and deserves 
 to be exhibited as an object of public detestation. I know where 
 
23 
 
 you live in London, and who are your friends, and therefore can ea- 
 sily reach you, and make you feel a little of my resentment, unless 
 this move you to make some reparation, or some atonement, for your 
 breach of faith to your injured friend. 
 
 “W. Bateman.’’ 
 
 “ P. S. — If you had come over to make only this picture tolerable, 
 you would by my recommendation have got tw o or three more. — 
 Cave litem, perfide pictor.” 
 
 Sedbergh, Nov. 26th, 1765. 
 
 “ I but lately heard you were come into the country ; and thought 
 to have wrote, but did not certainly know where to meet with you, 
 and I concluded that you would infallibly come over.’’ 
 
 In consequence of this Mr. Romney sent an attorney’s note, 
 which immediately brought the Doctor to reason. 
 
 While Mr. Romney was at York, he had an opportunity of purcha- 
 sing- some prints, which must have been of great use to him in for- 
 ming- liis taste for picturesque composition : for no sooner was he at 
 liberty to direct his own studies, than he began to make copies from 
 them in oil colours, and to form compositions of his own invention. 
 These, like those vernal flowers, which bloom in uncultivated wastes, 
 in spite of inclement skies and bitter chilling winds, captivated by a 
 certain natural simplicity, and excited interest, as being- the precur- 
 sors ol more refined productions. They were the blossoms of those 
 bright and sunny hours, when the mind, disengaged from portraiture, 
 and brooding over its own imaginings, brought into visible existence 
 the creations of fancy. They were his subsecwae operas during the 
 
24 
 
 four years he was resident at Kendal. Tlieir accumulation, how- 
 ever, made it expedient that some scheme should he adopted for 
 their disposal ; and, if possible, with some advantage to himself. A 
 lottery seemed the most likely means to effect this purpose, if it 
 could be made sufficiently attractive by the smallness of the sub- 
 scription : the following printed Notice was, therefore, offered to the 
 public a short time before he left the country. 
 
 A LIST OF PAINTINGS, 
 
 By George Romney, 
 
 TO BE DISPOSED OF IN THE MANNER OF THE STATE LOTTERY: 
 
 TO CONSIST OF 
 
 Eighty two Tickets at ten shillings and sixpence each. 
 
 The Drawing is to begin immediately after the subscription is 
 filled, notice of which will be given, and the Paintings exhibited a 
 week before the time in the Town-Hall, from one to four o’clock in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 N. B. The Pieces with this mark* before them are originals, the 
 others from designs of eminent masters. 
 
 f. i. f. i. £. s . 
 
 *1. King' Lear awakened by his daughter Cordelia 4 4 hy 3 6 — 8 8 
 
 *2. King* Lear in the tempest tearing off his robes 4 4 hy 3 6 — 8 8 
 
 *3. A Landscape with figures 4 2 hy 2 8 — i 0 
 
 *4. A Quarrel 2 11 hy 2 3—3 10 
 
 *5. A Shandean piece 2 6 hy 2 2 — 3 0 
 
 *6. A Droll Scene in an ale-house 2 2 hy 2 1 — 2 10 
 
 7. A Landscape in the taste of Poussin.. 2 11 hy 2 3 — 2 10 
 
25 
 
 F. I. F. I. £. S. 
 
 8. Harvest, a landscape 2 6 by 2 0 — 1 5 
 
 9. St. Cecilia 2 1 by 1 9—1 5 
 
 10. Holy Family 2 2 by 1 9- — 1 5 
 
 *11. A Group of Heads by candle-light 2 0 by 1 4 — 1 5 
 
 12. A Piece of Rocks 2 6 by 1 9—1 0 
 
 13. A Magdalene 2 0 by 1 7 — 1 0 
 
 14. Colebrook-dale, a landscape 2 0 by 1 5 — 0 15 
 
 15. A Landscape from Woverman 2 0 by 1 6 — 0 15 
 
 16. A Landscape with figures fishing I 4 by 1 1 — 0 10 
 
 17. A Dutch House with figures 1 4 by 0 11 — 0 10 
 
 *18. A Tooth Drawing by candle-light 1 0 by 0 10 — 0 10 
 
 19. A Landscape from Bergham 1 6 by 1 2 — 0 10 
 
 20. A Landscape with a group of houses 1 4 by 0 10 — 0 5 
 
 The pictures were accordingly exhibited in the Town-Hall of 
 Kendal with free admission ; and the Drawing- was performed in the 
 following manner. — Two small boxes of a cubical form, and about 
 ten inches square, having each an orifice on the top sufficient to ad- 
 mit a hand, were placed on a table ; in one were deposited the names 
 of the subscribers, and in the other, the blanks and prizes. That no 
 collusion or unfairness might be imputed, a boy was selected from 
 the company to draw the tickets ; which he did singly from each box 
 respectively ; and they being immediately opened in public, the suc- 
 cess of each name was declared in the order of drawing. 
 
 Four of the fancy pictures belonging to this lottery, are still, 1 
 believe, in existence ; but with respect to the rest, I cannot give any 
 satisfactory information. King Lear awakened by his daughter 
 Cordelia was in the possession of the late Adam Walker, the distim 
 
 E 
 
guished lecturer in philosophy. It was found by one of his sons in a 
 broker’s shop at Kensington, who, without knowing- that it was a 
 performance of one of his father’s friends, took a fancy for it, and 
 purchased it. His father, however, soon recognized liis old acquain- 
 tance ; for to its execution he had himself contributed as a model. 
 How it had strayed thither seems odd ; but as it originally fell to the 
 lot of a Mr. Richardson, of Cartmel, whose son afterwards removed 
 into the south, it is probable that it might have been sold by 
 him along with some furniture. Mrs. Romney was the model for 
 Cordelia. 
 
 King Lear in the tempest tearing off his robes is now in the 
 possession of Mr. Braddyll, of Conishead Priory, a gentleman well 
 qualified to appreciate its merits. It became the prize of a Mrs. 
 Robinson, the housekeeper of Captain Wilson, of BardseaHall. As 
 this picture was undoubtedly his very first essay in historical painting, 
 its defects should be weighed with all due allowance. It is a torch- 
 light subject, and the effect of light and shadow is managed with 
 a proper attention to nature ; the expression, also, is characteristic 
 and forcible. It is remarkable that his first and last attempts were 
 representations from the same scene, with some difference, however, 
 m point of time. In the latter unfinished work, he painted the head 
 of Edgar from his pupil, Isaac Pocock, in 1798, when the powers of 
 his genius were considerably impaired ; still, he was able to make 
 a strong likeness, and to impart to it a certain appropriate expression 
 of feeling ami character. — From both these we may infer, that 
 Shakspeare was his favourite author from beginning to end. And 
 thus, by uniting the extremes, as it were, in one point, he completed 
 the circle of his professional life. 
 
27 
 
 A Landscape with figures . — The circumstances that led to the 
 discovery of this picture are as follow : when Mr. Romney visited 
 the north of England in 1798, he was desirous of purchasing some 
 place of residence there; and Barfield, belonging to a Mr. Gihson, 
 being at that time advertised for sale, 1 went with him to view it 
 In examining the house, a solitary picture hanging in the gallery 
 caught my eye ; and with little curiosity, hut merely to say something. 
 S asked Mr. Gihson by whom it was painted. He said, by Romney. 
 This information surprised me, because I was not then aware that 
 he had ever painted a landscape; hut supposing that it might perhaps 
 be the work of his brother Peter, 1 said, by what Romney? He 
 replied, by the famous Romney. 1 cast a significant glance at Mr. 
 Romney, but said nothing — 
 
 Con viso, che tacendo dicea, taci ; 
 for we were not known. I then proceeded to examine it with more 
 attention. It represents a party, consisting of three gentlemen and 
 two ladies, going on board a boat on a lake. 'The ladies show great 
 timidity, so natural to the female character under the impression of 
 danger, which expression is frequently accompanied with a certain 
 degree of grace ; — hut are politely urged by their attendant gallants. 
 The fi gures reminded me of Watteau’s familiar and elegant composi- 
 tions. The colouring is beautifully clear and as fresh as if recently 
 painted. The execution evinces great facility and freedom of hand- 
 ling ; and the touches are spirited and neat, far, very far, beyond 
 what might have been expected from so young and unexperienced an 
 artist. The landscape, also, shews that he would have excelled 
 in that branch of the art, had he made it his particular study. 1 
 have heard Mrs. Romney speak with much delight of a party of 
 pleasure, which she and her husband made with some friends 
 to Bowness, and the island on Windermere lake ; and relate 
 
such occurrences as had made the strongest impression upon her 
 memory. While she was thus alive to every little incident that had a 
 tendency to promote, or disturb the social enjoyments of a gay and 
 sprightly party ; we may easily suppose that Mr. Romney, with his 
 cast of mind, though participating freely in the hilarity and good hu- 
 mour of his company, would frequently have his attention captivated 
 by the romantic and magnificent scenery around him ; and would 
 return from the lake with a rich store of fine ideas floating’ on his 
 imagination. — He must have been strongly impressed with the stately 
 grandeur of those venerable oaks, which, with their outspreading 
 branches and umbrageous foliage, gave a kind of druid ical sanctity 
 to the northern extremity of the island — he would have observed the 
 golden lustre of the evening sun tinging with its slanting rays all 
 prominent objects — he would have noticed the bright and fleecy 
 clouds, forming a brilliant contrast with the dark shadows of the 
 woods — and have perceived, as the day declined, the rocky and pre- 
 cipitous mountain, which forms the western boundary of that part of 
 the lake, already become involved in its own shadow, and casting a 
 deep and solemn gloom over the adjoining water — and the whole 
 reflected upon the glassy surface of the lake, like an inverted picture. 
 — With impressions like these on his mind, it is evident that he began 
 this landscape ; and it may, therefore, be fairly inferred that it owes 
 its origin to this excursion. It is not, however, a faithful represen- 
 tation of the lake, but embodies such ideas as the contemplation of 
 such scenery would naturally suggest. I may further mention, as a 
 confirmation of what I have been saying, that two of the figures are 
 evidently intended for himself and Mrs. Romney ; and that the gen- 
 tleman standing- in the boat is the undoubted resemblance of Adam 
 Walker, who was one of the party. For many years 1 kept this picture 
 in view, and, at length, had an opportunity of purchasing it through 
 
the favour of Mr. Gibson ; who had received it as a gift from his relation, 
 the late Miss Gibson of Lancaster, to whose lot it originally fell. 
 
 The Shandean piece was in the possession of the late Sir Mian 
 Chambre, Knight, to whom it was given by the person who gained it 
 in the lottery. It represents doctor Slop, all splashed and bedaubed 
 with dirt, ushered into the parlour by Obadiah, where Walter Shandy 
 and Toby were discoursing on the nature of woman; but whose atten- 
 tion was immediately arrested by the wofi.il and grotesque appearance 
 of the doctor. This picture had considerable merit as a faithful 
 representation of the narrative. From the same author he also 
 painted The Death of Le Fence, which lie took with him when lie went 
 to London. This affecting picture has been thus described by Adam 
 Walker. “ The fi gures were about eighteen inches long and wonder- 
 fully expressive. The dying lieutenant was looking at uncle Toby 
 who sat mute at the foot of the bed, and by the motion of his hand 
 was recommending his son to his care. The boy was kneeling by the 
 bedside, and with eyes that expressed the anguish of his heart, was, 
 as it were, turning from a dying to a living father, begging protec- 
 tion, — a most pathetic figure. Trim was standing at a distance in his 
 usual attitude, and with a face full of grief.” Mr. Laniel Braithwaite, 
 late of the general post-office, another of Mr. Bomney s early and. 
 intelligent friends, used, also, when speaking* of this picture, to ex- 
 press himself in terms that left no doubt of its great merit. What 
 became of it, and of some others which he took with him from Kendal, 
 does not appear. They were not finished at the time of the lottery, 
 and some of them, perhaps, never. 
 
 At York he is said to have attracted the notice of Lawrence Sterne, 
 and to have received from him some marks of attention and friendship : 
 
30 
 
 this is very probable ; for a man of Sterne’s genius, who was fond of 
 painting* and fiddling, would naturally be disposed to admire the 
 promising talents of a youth whose pursuits corresponded with his 
 own. I should think that it was some feeling of gratitude for cour- 
 tesies thus received, that induced Mr. Romney to possess himself of 
 f 'ristram Shandy so soon after its publication. And as the work itself 
 was completely in unison with the character of his own feelings, it is 
 no wonder that he made it a school for study. 
 
 I regret that F have no clue to trace the other fancy-pictures which 
 graced this little exliibition, and fear they have long since perished. 
 If. however, obscurity, and not extinction, be tlieir lot; time, or 
 happy chance, may yet restore them to light ; for they certainly would 
 be curious specimens of uninstructed genius. That which represented 
 vulgar nature under the impulse of strong passions, would, I am sure, 
 have been a masterpiece of natural painting. With respect to the 
 candle-light subjects, I can myself bear indirect testimony to their 
 excellence ; because there is in the family a portrait of his brother 
 James, then a boy of sixteen, which was painted at this very time, 
 and probably experimentally : he is holding a candle in one hand, 
 and intercepting its lustre by the other, as if to screen it from the action 
 of the air. The form of the hand is distinctly seen by the transmission 
 of light through the thinner parts ; but the chief effect is produced by 
 the illumination of the face. Neither Schalcken, nor Wright, could 
 have surpassed this head : it is done in so clever a manner as to leave 
 no doubt of his ability in this department of painting. 
 
 F have also a slight copy in oil of the Tooth drawing, painted by 
 liis brother Peter when only a boy ; but sufficient to convince me of 
 the excellence of the original. The disposition of the figures 
 
31 
 
 accords with the rules of correct composition, and the effect of 
 light is admirable. The patient is placed in the middle of the 
 picture, and a man is bending over him from behind, and press- 
 ing his head firmly on both sides with his flat hands ; on the right, is 
 the operator, who, with a lengthened and solemn visage, somewhat 
 contorted, is in the act of extracting the offending tooth ; on the left, 
 is a woman in shadow, who, from the powerful effect of light upon 
 the other figures, is evidently holding a candle, though invisible to 
 the spectator : all the individuals seem to sympathize deeply in the 
 sufferings of the patient ; who appears in the very crisis of the opera- 
 tion, and in whom the combined expression of fear and pain is finely 
 represented. 
 
 If I wanted to prove the power and versatility of Mr. Romney’s 
 genius, I should think it sufficient to refer to the list of his paintings, 
 exhibited at Kendal; for in it will he found every kind of subject 
 that can affect, or amuse the spectator — the sublime — the pathetic — 
 the familiar — the comique — the ridiculous — the vulgar — candle-light 
 subjects — and landscape : all performed before he had been seven 
 years in his profession, including his apprenticeship ; and before he 
 had studied any paintings by other masters, except those portraits at 
 Sizergh already mentioned. Even his copies were not without some 
 claim to originality, having been painted from simple prints. 
 
 Several years ago I saw in the possession of a Mr. Matthew Whit- 
 taker, of Kendal, two small heads of Lear and Cordelia, studies for 
 the picture of Lear awakened hy Cordelia. They were coloured in 
 so clear and beautiful a tone, especially the latter, that it became a 
 matter of astonishment to me how he could have attained to such 
 excellence in so short a time : it seemed to be the result of genius 
 
32 
 
 and feeling, almost without the aid of practice. Perfection, however, 
 in colouring cannot be acquired without much study, even by the most 
 favoured genius ; but where that peculiar feeling is wanting, neither 
 constant practice, nor the advantage of studying after the best colour- 
 ists, can impart excellence. To constitute a great painter two dis- 
 tinct qualifications are necessary — excellence in design, and in 
 colouring — which are rarely united in one individual*. Nature is 
 parsimonious of her favours ; if she be liberal of one talent, she is ge- 
 nerally sparing of another. Mr. Romney, however, was one of those 
 favoured few, upon whom she was pleased to bestow both these 
 endowments. Those two heads (of Lear and Cordelia) were devoted 
 to the flames, but were saved at the earnest request of Mr. Whittaker, 
 to whom they were then given. This gentleman had kept them 
 framed and glazed, a precaution unnecessary in oil paintings ; but a 
 sufficient proof of the estimation in wliich he had held them ; they had, 
 how ever, by that means retained their original freshness. He told me 
 that a gentleman had expressed a strong desire to purchase them, 
 and had offered him ten guineas, which he declined. 
 
 Although Mr. Romney had given a decided preference to the muse 
 of painting, he had not yet w ithdrawn himself from the attractions of 
 the gayer Euterpe ; for he frequently received at his house a small 
 party of musical amateurs, among whom were the above mentioned 
 
 * When the author wrote this passage, he was not aware that Vasari had made similar 
 observations. 
 
 E quest arte tanto difficile, e ha tanti capi, che un artefice bene spesso non li puo tutti fare 
 perfettamente, perche molti sono, che hanno disegnato divinamente, e nel colorire hanno 
 avuto qualche imperfezzione; altri hanno colorito maravigliosamente, e non hanno disegnato 
 alia meta. Questo nasce tutto dal giudizio, e da una pratica, che si piglia da giovane, chi 
 nel disegno, e chi sopra i colori. — Vita di Correggio. 
 
33 
 
 Mr. Whittaker, who performed od the german flute, and Adam 
 Walker. Even in the hours of solitary study, while he was engaged 
 in transferring to the canvass the creations of his imagination, his 
 fiddle was always at hand : and as it was often necessary in the pro- 
 gress of his work, to step back in order to judge of the effect ; he 
 would sometimes, on those occasions, amuse himself by carelessly 
 flourishing with some favourite air, till a new idea, or alteration, came 
 across his mind ; when the violin was instantly dismissed and the 
 pencil resumed — thus the two arts conspired, and the harmony of 
 the picture was improved by the harmony of the music. 
 
 His prices till he went to London were two guineas for a three- 
 quarter’s portrait, and six for a whole figure on a kit-cat canvass. 
 Considering the merit of his portraits, this was certainly a very in- 
 adequate remuneration ; but as improvement was more an object with 
 him than mere gain, it was deemed better to make some sacrifice of the 
 latter, than run the risque of being without employment ; especially 
 as the sort of people he had generally to deal with, was more atten- 
 tive to the enlargement of the purse, than to the refinements of 
 painting. The only way, therefore, to convert labour into profit, 
 was by painting quick ; from this necessity he acquired a rapidity of 
 manner, rarely equalled, never surpassed. He was, moreover, so 
 modest and unassuming in the exercise of his profession, that he al- 
 ways underrated his own abilities; and never, at any time, set such 
 prices upon his works as he was justly entitled to from their superior 
 merit. 
 
 A short time before he left the north, he painted a portrait of an 
 
 old gentleman for a Mr. B near Lancaster, who, either 
 
 repenting of the expense, (two guineas,) or displeased by fancying 
 
 F 
 
himself not sufficiently consulted in the execution of it, declined the 
 payment, on the plea that he was not present at the finishing- ; and 
 the picture was left in the charge of a Mr. Collin son, of Lancaster. 
 A short time after Mr. Romney had obtained the premium for his 
 picture of the Death of General Wolfe, and when his professional 
 
 character began to be better known, Mr. B called on Mr. 
 
 Collin son, paid for the picture, and took it away. When the latter 
 gentleman came to Kendal, he brought the money to Mrs. Romney, 
 and jocosely observed ; — that Mr. Romney’s pictures improved by 
 keeping ; — which has proved to be literally the fact, for his colours 
 have always stood, and grown riper and more mellow by time. 
 
 I have now brought the narrative of Mr. Romney’s life to that im- 
 portant period, when it was deemed expedient that he should try to 
 establish himself in the metropolis, as being the only proper thea- 
 tre for the display of talent, and the acquisition of fortune. Here, 
 however, a difficulty of a very serious character presented itself. It 
 was impossible for him, who had neither friends nor patrons, to main- 
 tain a family in London, it was even doubtful whether he should be 
 able to support himself. What was to be done ? Must he abandon 
 those noble prospects in his profession, winch he had contemplated 
 with so much enthusiasm ? Or leave his wife and family behind, and 
 adventure alone ; and, if successful, send for them afterwards ? Of 
 this alternative, the latter plan seemed the least objectionable, if Mrs. 
 Romney could be prevailed upon to accede to it. She, from a sense 
 of duty, and a wish to promote the views of her husband, was, accor- 
 dingly, induced to make this sacrifice of her feelings ; trusting, how- 
 ever, that the separation would not be of long continuance, and 
 that ultimate benefit would result from it. One hundred pounds, the 
 produce of his industry and of her economy, was then divided equally 
 
between them; but he found it necessary afterwards to send for 
 twenty pounds more. I have not a shadow of doubt of the sincerity 
 of his intentions, and he expressly declared to her at parting*, that 
 the great object he had in view, was, to be enabled to support her 
 and his family with respectability in London. When people are san- 
 guine, they never calculate difficulties ; otherwise, they might have 
 foreseen that much time, under any ordinary circumstances, must 
 elapse before he could be able to realize his intentions. As Mrs. 
 Romney was a woman of an energetic and courageous mind, I often 
 wondered, and once took the liberty to ask her, why she suffered 
 herself to he separated from her husband ? She said, she did every 
 thing for the best. Her family consisted of a son and a daughter ; 
 but the latter died about a year after Mr. Romney’s departure, at the 
 age of three years. She was a most promising and interesting child, 
 and her death plunged her disconsolate mother into the deepest sor- 
 row ; who then retired from Kendal, and went to live with her father- 
 in-law till his death, performing those tender offices of filial affection, 
 which were so congenial with her nature. Mr. Hayley, however, 
 with a feeling that ill accords with friendship, has insinuated that 
 Mr. Romney, in thus withdrawing from his family, was acting upon 
 a plan of preconceived and deliberate abandonment. This is so ma- 
 nifest a calumny that it is almost unnecessary to confute it. It is in 
 opposition to the most powerful instincts of our nature. It is quite 
 improbable that a father, who was so capable of enjoying, as well as 
 of delineating the playfulness and vivacity of children in general, 
 could have been so insensible to the same qualities in his own, who 
 were not, as I have understood, deficient in the graces and charms 
 of infancy, as deliberately to cast them off, and to abandon them for 
 ever. As a proof that he entertained no such intention, he came 
 twice afterwards to see his wife. — The best way to ascertain the true 
 
m 
 
 character of a man’s actions, is, to weight his motives. As Mr. Koftf- 
 ney had resolution to forego the endearments of domestic life for the 
 noble purpose of providing for the future welfare of Iris family; his 
 motives were certainly good, and would justify his separation in the 
 first instance, 
 
 it is extremely repugnant to my feelings, as any one mat easiK 
 conceive, to enter into these unpleasant, and as far as concerns the 
 public, uninteresting particulars; hut Mr. Hayley, with very imper- 
 fect knowledge of what 3m lias presumed to relate, having invaded 
 the sanctuary of domestic life, and with unholy hand rent that sacred 
 veil which screens every private family ; confounding fiction with rea- 
 lity, and exaggerating or misrepresenting circumstances, which might 
 have been omitted altogether as not being essentially connected with 
 Mr. Romney’s professional life; it became a duty incumbent upon me, 
 however painful, to correct his errors, and refute his misrepresentati- 
 ons. If Mr. Hayley had had any gratitude in his heart, or delicacv 
 in Iris nature, he would have shewn more tenderness for the memorv 
 of his deceased friend, and more respect for the feelings of the survi- 
 ving relatives of that friend ; hut how could delicacy, or feeling, be 
 expected from a man, who has blazoned his own dishonour! 
 
 Why Mr. Romney never realized Iris professions to Ids wife, luav 
 he otherwise accounted for, than by attributing it to the ungenerous 
 motives imputed by Mr. 1 layley. From the very first, his brothers became 
 a heavy burthen to him and drained him of Iris savings, lie deemed 
 it necessary, also, in order to promote his professional views, first to 
 visit Paris, and at a subsequent period, Rome: which peregrinations 
 consumed all the money he could raise on those respective occasions : 
 thus a succession of untoward circumstances threw impediments in the 
 
Way of good intent, till time and absence became impediments also. 
 Besides, when Mr. Romney first went to London and began to asso- 
 ciate with the young artists of the day, he, from a sort of reserve pe- 
 culiar to himself, did not communicate the circumstance of his 
 marriage ; and by investing it, as it were, with a kind of secrecy, 
 only increased his repugnance to divulge it ; rill, at length, by becom- 
 ing an object of fear, the transition would be easy to that of dislike; 
 —Quod timemus odimus. 
 
 Other circumstances, also, might perhaps have operated on his 
 feelings, and contributed to estrange him from his wife : for, though 
 his ruling passion was the love of art, and the desire of riches 
 only subservient and secondary to that object, being such as every 
 one feels who is anxiously struggling lor independence ; though in 
 fact no man was ever more free from mercenary views : yet it is not 
 improbable but he might have made some disadvantageous compari- 
 sons between his own lot and that of two contemporary painters,- — 
 Nathaniel Dance and John Astley; the former having married the 
 Yorkshire Mrs. Drummer, with a fortune of eighteen thousand pounds 
 per annum, and the latter. Lady Daniel, of Duckinfield, no less 
 abounding in wealth : he, however, would soon have perceived that 
 riches only generated folly and extravagance in them, and a disre- 
 gard for that noble art, which was to himself the source of all his 
 hopes and enjoyments. 
 
 Perhaps nothing contributed more to confirm him in habits of 
 estrangement from his wife than the society of Mr, Hay ley, who had 
 the greatest influence over his affections and feelings. As, however, 
 Mr. Romney’s transgressions arose in the first place out of the neces- 
 sity of his circumstances, and only stole into Ids habits and modes ol 
 
38 
 
 life by the slow process of time ; they ought not to be visited with 
 that severity of censure which would attache to direct abandonment. 
 It is much to be regretted that so unfortunate a circumstance should 
 have cast a shade upon his character — illustrious by the splendour of 
 liis genius, and estimable for many private virtues. 
 
 On the fourteenth of March, 1762, he, in company with two other 
 Kendal gentlemen, set off for London on horseback ; one of whom 
 (the late Mr. Holme, father of Dr. Holme, of Manchester,) had kindly 
 promised me a written narrative of their journey, but was prevented 
 by the sudden stroke of death. All that I remember of his oral ac- 
 count, after the lapse of many years, is — that they stayed a whole day 
 at Manchester, where they met with Steele; who received his quon- 
 dam pupil with great cordiality, and accompanied the party next day 
 as far as Stockport ; that many incidents occurred on the road, which 
 to men disposed to see every thing in a favourable light, occasioned 
 much merriment and good humour. Other circumstances, however, 
 of a more serious cast sometimes happened, which kept their vivacity 
 in check. One was with a highwayman, who joined them at a watering 
 place, and stuck by them for a considerable time, sometimes going 
 before, and sometimes lagging behind, as if to reconnoitre his prey ; 
 but disparity of numbers, and indications of resistance made him, at 
 length, relinquish his intention. There was, however, on the part of 
 the travellers a good deal of suppressed apprehension ; for in those 
 days, before the convenience of country banks, every man was his own 
 purse-bearer; and Mr. Romney might with great truth have said on 
 this occasion — omnia mea rnecurn porto. They arrived in London on 
 the twenty first of March at the Castle Inn, where Mr. Ronmey was 
 obliged to continue about a fortnight before he got settled in lodgings. 
 
39 
 
 MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE, <fcc. 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE ROMNEY. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 IN the transition — from a provincial to a metropolitan life, from a 
 life of comparative privacy, to one of growing’ publicity — I have fixed 
 the point, at which, I think, the second Part of Mr. Romney’s pro- 
 fessional life may properly begin. And here, before he quits that 
 noisy receptacle of comers and goers, where he was compelled to 
 pass his first anxious hours in London ; often ruminating, no doubt, 
 upon his future destiny, sometimes cheered by hope, and sometimes 
 depressed by fear, according to the prevailing influence of his reflec- 
 tions ; — T beg to call the attention of the courteous reader to the real 
 circumstances of his situation. Behold a young painter, a perfect 
 stranger in the great metropolis, and little conversant with the habits 
 of the world ; without friends, (a few country acquaintance only ex- 
 cepted,) and almost without money ; encumbered, moreover, with two 
 or three expensive brothers, who soon began to hang upon him ; — 
 boldly adventuring without any thing to sustain him, except the con- 
 
40 
 
 sciousness of his own powers, and that controlled by diffidence and 
 modesty. He had no Lord Mount Edgecumbes to usher him into 
 practice among the higher ranks, hut was obliged to work his way, 
 silently and slowly, till, at length, with almost Sisyphean toil, he gained 
 the summit. 
 
 The following fragment of a letter, addressed to Mrs. Romney, 
 which seems to have been his second after his arrival in London, 
 has, by some strange chance, escaped the rapacity of time. It is 
 written upon a folio sheet, hut the lower fold having been worn oil 
 and lost, the part which follows the hiatus is written on the other 
 side as a postscript. As this letter refers to some of his early works, 
 its insertion here seems to he required as matter of testimony ; and 
 1 think, if the sentence had been complete, some mention would, 
 also, have been made of the picture of The Death of Le Fevre. 
 
 London, March 30th, 1 76*2. 
 
 “My Dear, 
 
 “ 1 cannot yet give you any particular account in what manner 1 
 shall live here, as I have hitherto only been an observer of the man- 
 ners, customs, and circumstances of this place ; in two or three days 
 1 hope to meet with lodgings to my liking. — I have met with a great 
 deal of complaisance from the people 1 know, and believe 1 shall like 
 the town very well. — I saw brother John for the first time yesterday 
 week, and every day since ; he is going to work immediately, and 
 has promised to stick close to it for the future. 1 have not written 
 to my father, brother Peter must therefore let him know. 
 
 I desire, my dear, you will send the pieces of King Lear, and 
 Elfrida rolled up in a box, by the first waggon, along with * * * * * 
 
41 
 
 “Mr. Pennington lias been a little indisposed of late, bnt is so well 
 recovered as to ride out every day. Yon will give my compliments 
 to Mrs. Pennington and let her know. — Mr. Walker and all friends 
 are very well. — Direct what yon send to he left at the Castle Inn, till 
 you hear further. — My compliments to all friends, particularly to 
 Thomas Rowlandson. 
 
 “ My Dear, as I was at Mr. Stephenson’s*, and they did not men- 
 tion any thing of paying for their son’s picture, S imagine Mr. Drill- 
 kell has not informed them that he did not pay me ; you will, there- 
 fore, desire Mr. Drinkell to acquaint them if he has not, — 1 shall be 
 glad to hear what Peter is doing, and hope he will mind his business.” 
 
 His first residence was in Dove Court, near the Mansion House; 
 where, after so long an intermission, he recommenced his professional 
 labours with redoubled application. The pictures which first graced 
 his humble painting-room, were probably King Lear, Elfrida, the 
 Death of Le Fevre, and a few portraits of friends. The Death ol 
 David Rizzio, painted upon a large scale, was the picture that chiefly 
 engaged bis attention while resident here. It has been represented 
 by those who were competent to judge, as a work of extraordinary 
 merit, combining energetic action with strong expression. Unluckily 
 for him, it was buried in obscurity, and instead of producing profit, 
 became an incumbrance. At length, when he went to Paris, it was 
 sacrificed to convenience. Some heads that I have seen, in which 
 
 * The late Mr. Rowland Stephenson, the banker, whose wife, a Kendal lady and the daugh- 
 ter of Mr. Drinkell, an alderman of that Burgh, was particularly friendly to Mr. Romney; 
 and I have no doubt some of his early pictures will still he in the possession of their son, the 
 present Mr. Edward Stephenson ; most likely the very picture here alluded to, and, perhaps, 
 the portrait of Mrs. Stephenson herself. 
 
 G 
 
42 
 
 terror and affright were strongly depicted, and which had been pre- 
 served in the cutting up of some large picture, were, I have no doubt, 
 the reliquioe of this. 
 
 He next resided in Bearbinder’s Lane, where we find him so early 
 as the beginning of August. Here he continued some time and painted 
 several portraits, chiefly through the zealous recommendation of his 
 kind and amiable friend, Daniel Braithwaite, already mentioned ; — 
 portraits, which, from their merit, though painted for the humble price 
 of three guineas a three quarters, might even then, had they been 
 better known, have brought him into competition with the most dis- 
 tinguished painters of the day. It was here that he painted his pic- 
 ture of The Death of General Wolfe. 
 
 The following letter of the late Adam Walker, will not, I am sure, 
 require any apology for its insertion here, as it contains a humourous 
 and faithful description of the eccentricities of Steele, and also some 
 other particulars not unworthy of notice. 
 
 Manchester, 12th Dec. 1762. 
 
 “ Dear Romney, 
 
 " l mislaid your letter upon its first receipt, and consequently for- 
 got the direction you gave me. I thought it, however, at one Pan- 
 thevre’s, in Bearbinder’s Lane, and accordingly wrote you four 
 months ago a sheet history of my own and the Count’s transactions 
 in Manchester ; but the never hearing from you since, made me as- 
 sured my direction was wrong, and that you had never received it. — 
 A few days ago, I found yours, and my mistake, and so write again; 
 but where shall I begin the eventful detail ? T he Count now rides 
 the vast Atlantic ocean, and being quite tired out with the blindness 
 
43 
 
 and .stupidity of the old, is going to try the discernment of the new 
 world. He sailed from Liverpool a few days ago for the West Indies, 
 having left Manchester in too abrupt a way to make an end of his 
 affairs. Accordingly he put me into commission to collect his scat- 
 tered goods and chattels ; (an employ that I could very well have 
 dispensed with ;) and obliged his creditors, for the benefit of more 
 things than their health, to take a ride out to Liverpool. 
 
 “ 1 began my commission by buying three dozen of great and 
 small corks for bottles of oil, &c., which had never known that con- 
 venience ; but 1 had no sooner taken possession of the room, than it 
 was filled with distressed damsels ; some in want of a pair of stays, 
 others of gauze handkerchiefs, ruffles, caps, dolls, &c., and many, 
 no doubt, of their virtue. I obliged all as far as my things would 
 go ; but what were the lamentations when many were missing, and 
 others so ornamented with oil, vermilion, &c., that the outrageous 
 owners scarcely knew them again. But lo ! the tremendous landlord 
 of the vacant house comes in ! “ Nothing goes hence, sir, till I am 
 
 indemnified for my lost keys, broken locks and windows, and those 
 oiled places in my floors.” — Dismay seized every damsel — “whatnot 
 have my petticoat?” “not my gauze apron ? ” Oh Lord ! “Nothing, 
 young woman,” replies the landlord. — But, sir, I hope there is 
 enough besides, and I have a commission to pay you. — “Very well, 
 then you may take yourselves and trumpery away,” quoth he to the 
 afflicted — they did, and compounded for the stains and rents in their 
 different garments with great exultation of heart. But ere the prints 
 are hall gathered from the floor, in comes a tribe. — “ Sir, my bill is 
 only five shillings and sixpence; mine only fifteen shillings; all 
 charged at the very lowest. Sir, 1 must have my picture, he had a 
 ring for it ; though its like the rest, but half done. Sir, I understand 
 
44 
 
 you have a commission so and so. Sir, you know Mr. Steele and you 
 and I have been very merry together, and it would he hard if the 
 
 two guineas I lent ” Zounds ! gentlemen, I have but four pound 
 
 ten to pay twenty with — what the devil would you have me do ? I’ll 
 not pay a farthing of my own. “ But, sir, you know a poor washer- 
 woman gets her bread very hard.” So do I. — I’ll positively throw 
 up my commission. With great difficulty 1 got all together, and a laced 
 suit from the pawnbroker’s ; and sent all off, except a landscape after 
 Poussin, two war pieces, a night piece, and a Dutch one, all of your 
 performance, which l saved from the general wreck by giving him 
 two guineas for them. My picture is in the same state in which you 
 saw it. I do not think this thoughtless fellow has done a week’s 
 work these six months ; sometimes the weather, sometimes a girl, and 
 sometimes the prospect of matrimonial emolument, has kept him from 
 all manner of business, which might have kept him out of debt, and 
 from that multitude of mortifications, which continually attended him. 
 
 “ My paper is almost gone, and not a word of myself — indeed my 
 life is such a piece of clock-work, that no part of it would entertain a 
 connoisseur in variety. 
 
 “It was with inexpressible pleasure that S heard of your success in 
 London, and I am sure it will increase. You have now, I dare say, 
 laid aside all schemes of pastoral felicity, a reverie that I often in- 
 dulge. Hope is the greatest cordial in life ; which, when I am in 
 the greatest bustle, can cheer the fatigues of business by anticipating 
 a pleasure which may never come. God bless you, write to me, and 
 be particular. I know how much you hate writing, but mortify your- 
 self for once, and add one more pleasure to the life of 
 
 “Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 “A. Walker.” 
 
45 
 
 The following 1 year we find him lodged near the Mews Gate, Cha- 
 ring Cross, where most likely he continued to reside till he went to 
 Paris. His motive for removing thither was probably to place him- 
 self near the artists’ academy in Saint Martin’s Lane, and the exhi- 
 bition in Spring Gardens. This part of the town was also, at that 
 time, distinguished by the concentration of living genius : Dance and 
 Mortimer resided in Covent Garden ; Hogarth and Reynolds in Lei- 
 cester Fields. 
 
 This year (1763) he became a competitor for the premiums offered 
 by the society for the encouragement of arts and sciences, and was so 
 successful as to obtain the second prize for his picture of The Death 
 of General Wolfe. Some demur, however, having afterwards arisen 
 as to the justice of the decision, a second meeting of the committee 
 was called, and the adjudication was revoked. The prize of fifty 
 guineas was then assigned to Mortimer, for his picture of Edward 
 the Confessor seizing the treasures of his mother ; and another pre- 
 mium, created expressly for the purpose, was decreed to Mr. Romney, 
 not as a compensation for any disappointment lie might have suffered, 
 hut as a recompence due to the merit of his picture. This, I believe, 
 is a true statement of facts ; hut how far lie was aggrieved by the 
 transaction is another question. Cumberland, who lived in London 
 at the time and was well informed of the circumstances, gives the 
 following account. “To the picture of The Death of General Wolfe 
 the committee decreed the second premium, hut not without some 
 dissension, as it was apprehended to be the production of an old artist, 
 for some years retired into the country ; and who was accordingly 
 censured for what was considered as an attempt to impose upon the 
 Society. A short time, however, cleared up this mistake, and the 
 committee being summoned to a second sitting, the judges, who had 
 
46 
 
 decreed the second prize to the painter of the death of Wolfe, found 
 their adjudication in danger of being reversed by the objections which 
 were started by the friends of the rival candidate; not to the merit of 
 the picture, but to the propriety of its being considered as an historical 
 composition, when, in fact, no historian had then recorded the event 
 on which it was founded. Other criticisms even more ridiculously 
 minute and frivolous than the above, were offered against it ; as that 
 the officers and soldiers were not all in their proper regimentals, that 
 Wolfe himself had on a handsome pair of silk stockings, against the 
 costume of a general on the field of battle ; anti some objected to the 
 deadly paleness of Ms countenance. Upon these grounds the decree 
 was reversed, and poor Romney, friendless and unknown, was set 
 aside in favour of a rival better supported ; a hardship so obvious, and 
 a partiality so glaring, that the committee could not face the tran- 
 saction, but voted him a premium extraordinary, nearly, if not quite, 
 to the amount of the prize he had been deprived of.” 
 
 Some, also, by way of reproach have called it a coat and waistcoat 
 subject; an objection, which would exclude from the pencil all im- 
 portant events in modem warfare ; and would apply with equal truth 
 to West’s celebrated picture on the same subject, subsequently painted 
 and universally admired. But, in fact, all such feeble objections 
 only prove the merit of Mr. Romney’s picture ; because the caviller 
 would never have had recourse to them, could lie have produced more 
 weighty arguments. To show, however, in what light the picture 
 was regarded by the public, we have the testimony of a contempo- 
 rary writer. In a poem entitled, On Beneficence, a poetical essay, 
 published in S 764, and written, I believe, by the learned biographer 
 of Lord Mansfield, the late John Halliday, esquire, — is the following 
 couplet and note. The latter probably written to remove any 
 
47 
 
 disgrace that might have attached to the society from the tran- 
 saction. 
 
 “Ev’n thy bold canvass, Reynolds, Romney* thine 
 Starts into life, to fire discernment’s eye.” 
 
 * “A young portrait painter, who successfully attempted the nobly 
 pathetic scene of The Death of General Wolfe. That dawning effort 
 of his genius, then very little cultivated by art, every one remembers 
 graced the exhibitions of the spring 1763; and it is not easy to de- 
 termine whether more honour is reflected on the patrons of unassisted 
 genius, the Society of Arts, or on the painter, by the premium or ray 
 of bounty, on that occasion purposely made to adorn, cherish, and 
 enliven rising merit.” 
 
 I think the following circumstance may, also, be regarded as no 
 inconsiderable test of the merit of Mr. Romney’s picture ; — that it was 
 capable of exciting so strong a feeling of admiration in the public 
 mind after it had been so recently gratified (1762) by the exhibition 
 of Sir Joshua’s admirable picture of Garrick between Tragedy and 
 Comedy ; the latter painted by the most celebrated painter of the age, 
 in the zenith of his career, the other by an obscure and friendless 
 young artist, unknown and unpatronized. But who was the person 
 through whose especial interference the decree was reversed? 1'he 
 illustrious Reynolds! Andean he be regarded as an impartial judge ? 
 What say facts and circumstances ? Many competent to form a cor- 
 rect opinion, thought differently from him, but paid deference to his 
 judgment. He was too much versed in his profession, and had too 
 shrewd an intellect not to perceive in the author of that picture a 
 future rival. Let any one indeed look at the portraits painted by Mr. 
 Romney at that time, and see whether there was not sufficient ground 
 
48 
 
 for jealousy on the part of Reynolds. Every man who aspires to emolu- 
 ment and fame, will naturally grow jealous of another who is likely 
 to enter the lists against him ; and of all men the irritabile genus 
 pictorum is the most liable to this infirmity. The following princi- 
 ple, laid down by Sir Joshua himself, and grounded upon his own 
 feelings, establishes the truth of my observations — “That it was im- 
 possible for two painters in the same department of the art to con- 
 tinue long in friendship with each other.” — lie might also, perhaps, 
 have been influenced by another motive, originating from a better 
 feeling — friendship for Mortimer — who had been long in London, 
 was formerly a pupil of Hudson, Reynolds’ master, and no portrait 
 painter ; and who afterwards gave proof of his gratitude by dedica- 
 ting his etching's to Sir Joshua. It was not to be tolerated, that a 
 young man from the country of whom nobody knew any thing, should 
 carry awav the prize from a student of such high pretensions ; who 
 had had the advantage of studying in the Duke of Richmond’s gal- 
 lery, and was then admitted into the private academy in Saint Martin’s 
 Lane. It may be mentioned, also, as an additional indication of 
 jealous feeling on the part of Reynolds, that not the slightest inter- 
 course, at any time, subsisted between him and Mr. Romney ; this 
 could not, at first, have arisen from any backwardness on the side of 
 the latter, because the notice of so distinguished an individual would 
 have been of great advantage to Mr. Romney ; unless, as some say, 
 he had felt himself aggrieved by the interference of Reynolds in de- 
 priving him of the merited premium. However this may have been, 
 I think it is sufficiently evident that he had been unjustly deprived of 
 the premium, and that chiefly through the interference and influence 
 of Reynolds. I certainly never heard Mr. Romney express himself 
 upon the subject, because it never became a topic of conversation 
 between us ; but 1 have since understood from different persons, at 
 
49 
 
 that time qualified to judge, that he was unfairly used upon that oc- 
 casion. The picture of Wolfe was afterwards purchased by Mr. 
 Romney’s friend and countryman, the late Rowland Stephenson, the 
 hanker, and presented by him to Governor Varelst, who placed it 
 in the council chamber at Calcutta. 
 
 Mr. Northcote, in liis Memoirs of Sir Joshua Reynolds, mentions 
 an anecdote of Garrick*, which, I think, clearly proves that Cum- 
 berland, five or six years subsequent to this, had incurred the dis- 
 pleasure of Reynolds and his friends, for taking Mr. Romney by the 
 hand. It is, also, evident, from the same anecdote, that Reynolds 
 had been speaking disparagingly of Mr. Romney; for how could 
 Garrick know that he did not admire him unless he had heard him 
 say so ? From which expression it is not uncandid to infer, that jea- 
 lousy had already taken deep root in the mind of Sir Joshua. 15 v 
 whatever means, however, Mr. Romney had incurred the dislike of 
 that great man, it certainly was not by speaking injuriously either of 
 him, or of others ; for if ever he felt himself called upon from circum- 
 stances, to express an opinion respecting any of his contemporaries, 
 or their works, he did it always with the utmost candour and libera- 
 lity: and, I firmly believe, that in all matters relating to his profes- 
 sion, he was guided by that noble precept — “As ye would that men 
 should do to you, do ye also to them.” — And he even carried his 
 
 * “ One morning when Garrick paid a visit to Sir Joshua, in the course of conversation he 
 was very freely giving his opinion upon an eminent author of that time; he particularly con- 
 demned his dramatic works, respecting which he expressed himself in these words: “Damn 
 his dish-clout face ; his plays would never do for the stage if I did not cook them up and make 
 prologues and epilogues for him, so that they go down with the public.” He also added, “he 
 hates you, Sir Joshua, because you do not admire the painter whom he considers as a second 
 Corregio.” Who is that replied Sir Joshua, “Why his Corregio,” answered Garrick, “is 
 Romney the painter !” — Northcote’s Memoirs of Reynolds. 
 
 H 
 
50 
 
 scrupulousness so far in this respect, as sometimes to check me; not 
 because my observations were either uncandid or unjust, but because 
 be thought that they did not come witli a good grace from one so 
 nearly connected with himself. 
 
 The merit of the picture of General Wolfe, and the feeling of in- 
 terest that had been excited in Mr. Romney’s favour in consequence 
 of his having been deprived of the adjudged premium, gave publicity 
 to his name, and procured him considerable employment ; so much, 
 indeed, that he was not able to finish another historical subject, to 
 contend for the prizes of the following year ; hut he acquired that, 
 which was of more immediate importance to him — a little money — 
 and was thereby enabled to visit Paris. For, as his business increa- 
 ed, he soon began to feel the disadvantage of not having studied 
 abroad. To the frequent enquiries of sitters, if he had visited France, 
 or Italy ? he could only answer with the mortifying negative. In 
 truth, to study the works of foreign artists in their own country, and 
 the productions of ancient art in the galleries of Italy, was at that 
 time deemed so essential to complete the education of a painter, that 
 without such recommendation, however great his merits, he had little 
 chance of profitable employment ; and not without reason, lor the 
 English artists, in those days, were not blessed with the many advan- 
 tages, and facilities for cultivating the arts of design, which are now 
 within the reach of every youthful student. Mr. Romney felt him- 
 self so humbled by this acknowledged defect, which compelled him 
 to paint for lower prices, and to assume atone of pretension far below 
 his deserts, that he was determined to take advantage of the first 
 money he could spare, in order to qualify himself to answer his sit- 
 ters more to his satisfaction. And although he was unable then to 
 achieve the greater plan of visiting Italy, which he afterwards accom- 
 
51 
 
 plished ; yet lie had scraped up funds sufficient to enable him to make 
 a short visit to the French metropolis. Mr. Greene, of Gray’s Inn, 
 his oldest and most confidential friend, accompanied him ; and the plea- 
 sure of the excursion was still further increased by their mutual partici- 
 pation. They embarked for Dunkirk the beginning of September, 1 7(54, 
 and thence proceeded by Lisle to Paris. An extract from a letter 
 addressed to his brother Peter, will give the reader some idea of Mr. 
 Romney’s feelings and sentiments after a week’s residence in Paris ; 
 it will also shew how much he had devoted his time to the acquisition 
 of professional knowledge by studying the works of other masters. 
 
 Paris, September 16th, 1764. 
 
 “ Dear Peter, 
 
 “We arrived at Paris the 9th instant, after a very agreeable jour- 
 ney, in good health and spirits. I was very much struck with the 
 strange appearance of things at the first sight. — The degeneracy of 
 taste that runs through every thing, is farther gone here than in Lon- 
 don. The ridiculous and fantastical are the only points they seem to 
 aim at. The paintings 1 have yet seen, are not much better, I mean 
 by the present masters ; but those of the time of Louis the fourteenth 
 are very great, and every church and palace is filled with them. The 
 vast collections I see every day, make me feel no inclination either 
 for designing or writing at present, &c.” 
 
 He had the good fortune to be introduced to Vernet, the celebra- 
 ted painter of sea-pieces and landscapes, who, being employed by 
 Louis the fifteenth to paint the sea-ports of France, had at that time 
 apartments in the Louvre. This artist received him with great cordi- 
 ality and frankness, attended him to some exhibitions, and procured 
 him free access to the Orleans gallery, where he spent much of his 
 
52 
 
 time. Among the French painters, the works of Le Sueur seemed to 
 coincide the most with his own ideas. After having passed six weeks 
 most agreeably in France, and, no doubt, with considerable improve- 
 ment in the science of his profession, he returned with his friend to 
 England. 
 
 Being now much connected with the gentlemen of the law, he was 
 induced to take chambers in Gray’s Inn, where he painted the por- 
 traits of several of that profession ; and among the rest, that of Sir 
 Joseph Yates*, one of the judges of the King’s Bench. It was here, 
 also, that he painted his picture of The Death of King Edmund, 
 which in the following year (1765) obtained the second premium of 
 fifty guineas from the society for the encouragement of arts, &c. 
 What became of this picture I have never heard, but fear that it may 
 have been destroyed for want of a purchaser. 
 
 About this time there were two exhibitions, one in Spring Gardens, 
 by the Incorporated Society of artists, who had just obtained a royal 
 charter ; and the other in Maiden Lane. This latter was chiefly 
 supported by the younger artists, who had hitherto exhibited in the 
 Strand, in the rooms, and under the auspices of the society for the 
 encouragement of arts &c. ; but, being now deprived of that privilege 
 in consequence of its interfering too much with the general concerns 
 of the society, they had engaged a large room in Maiden Lane, 
 Covent Garden. Here they exhibited for two seasons; but finding 
 that this situation was in many respects unfavorable, they entered 
 into an agreement with Mr. Christie, the auctioneer, for the use of 
 his rooms in Pall Mall for one month in every spring. It was with 
 
 * This gentleman was born at Peel Hall in Lancashire, and it is a pleasing circumstance thus- 
 io find countrymen contributing mutually to each other’s distinction. 
 
this association (called, I believe, the free society of artists) that Mr. 
 Romney first began to exliibit; and he continued with it for five suc- 
 cessive years. 
 
 In 1765 he contributed two pictures, The Portrait of a Gentle- 
 man, and The Head of a Lady in the character of a Saint. In the 
 autumn of this year he visited his friends in the north, and painted 
 many portraits, chiefly at Lancaster. In 1766 he exhibited The 
 Portrait of a Gentleman and A Conversa tion. The latter picture 
 is now in my possession, and contains the portraits of his two brothers, 
 Peter and James ; the former is sitting before his easel, and demon- 
 strating a proposition in Euclid to his brother, who is standing by 
 him, and resting his arm on the chair-back. This picture is well 
 composed, and with good effect, and the colouring is clear and deli- 
 cate ; the figures are about two feet and a half high. 
 
 In 1767 he again visited the north, and painted so many portraits 
 at Lancaster, which was at that time a very flourishing town with 
 many wealthy inhabitants, that he was obliged to take several with 
 him to finish in London. In the short interval of two years, between 
 those visits, a considerable improvement had taken place in his style 
 of painting ; as may be seen by comparing the pictures painted at 
 those respective times. On his return to London in autumn, he 
 engaged apartments in Great Newport Street, where he continued 
 to reside till he went to Italy. — A street long distinguished by the 
 residence of Sir Joshua, and which that artist had left only a few 
 years before. 
 
 In 1768 he exhibited a large Family Piece, containing the por- 
 traits of Mr. Leigh, (a proctor in Doctor’s Commons,) his wife, and 
 
54 
 
 six children ; a picture much admired by the public at the time. 1 1 
 was about this period that Mr. Romney first became acquainted with 
 Mr. Cumberland, who, attracted by his talents, came to sit for his 
 portrait. His price at that time was eight guineas for a three quar- 
 ters portrait, hut at the suggestion of Mr. Cumberland he raised it to 
 ten. Thus his succession of prices was as follows — in 1762, three 
 guineas; in 1765, five; in 1767, seven ; in 1768, eight; and in 1769, 
 ten ; but I believe he raised it to twelve before he went to Italy. 
 One day before Mr. Cumberland’s portrait was quite finished, he 
 brought Garrick to see it ; and has in his own Memoirs related the 
 circumstances winch took place on that occasion. Both he and 
 Garrick seem to have indulged themselves too freely in sarcasm, the 
 former at the expense of truth, and the latter, of good manners. But 
 how could candour be expected from Garrick, the close and intimate 
 friend of Reynold’s ? The picture which provoked their wit, was that 
 of Mr. Leigh and his family, just mentioned, which certainly did not 
 merit their severity. 
 
 !t was a regular custom with Mr. Romney to make sketches for his 
 principal works ; and as most of his sketch books have been preserved, 
 every picture of importance that he has painted, and many that he 
 intended, may be traced in them almost in chronological order. Up- 
 on some occasions, so many different modes of representing the same 
 subject presented themselves to his fancy, that he made several studies 
 either varied in part or in the whole, and executed in a slight, bold, and 
 rapid manner, just sufficient to convey the ideas ; and from these he 
 afterwards, made his selection. In one of those books there are 
 several sketches of the subject of this picture, to none of which 
 the observations of Mr. Cumberland can with any truth apply ; nor, 
 in fact to any of Mr. Romney’s pictures painted at any time ; but 
 
55 
 
 Cumberland’s propensity to humour was so irresistible, that he was 
 frequently led to indulge it at the expense of his friends. I shall de- 
 scribe two of the sketches, to shew that there was no want of appro- 
 priate expression or action in the design of this picture. — I must 
 premise, however, that that force of expression and that energy of 
 action, peculiar to historic compositions, are not to be expected in a 
 family-picture, which can only represent the habits and occupations 
 of domestic life. Sometimes, indeed, it may baffle the efforts of the 
 greatest painter to impart intelligence to stupidity : but Mr. Romney 
 had the Promethean power of giving animation to clay as much as 
 any man ; for if there was a spark of sense in his sitter he would 
 elicit it. I remember his telling me once what difficulty he had with 
 a sitter in order to accomplish a little expression. The gentleman was 
 from the country and an attorney ; and though his profession required 
 intelligence, yet his countenance gave no indication of it. To remove 
 a settled dulness that pervaded his features, Mr. Romney made ma- 
 ny attempts, starting every popular topic of conversation ; but all in 
 vain : at length, by some uncommon chance, he happened to mention 
 hunting ; at the sound of which word, a ray of animation immediately 
 sparkled in the eyes of his sitter, and imparted a certain degree of viva- 
 city to his countenance. Mr. Romney took his measures accordingly, 
 and led him into the subject; after which he was relieved from anv 
 further attempts at conversation, as the worthy gentleman expatiated 
 upon it with spirit until the picture was finished. Even upon persons 
 to whom nature was less parsimonious of her favours, he knew that 
 dulness would sometimes intrude; and, therefore, always wished that 
 some friends should accompany his sitters, both for the purpose 
 already mentioned, and also, to relieve himself from the double 
 task — ol painting, and of keeping up a forced conversation at the 
 same time. 
 
56 
 
 With respect to the close-buckled bob-wig'*, I admit that it is a 
 most unpicturesque appendage ; but no blame attaches to the painter, 
 the fault is in the fashion of the times. It has, indeed, sometimes 
 bad a substitute in a velvet-cap, but that must have been with the 
 concurrence of the sitter. I do not, however, regard a periwig as 
 being much more natural and becoming ; and yet that is the head- 
 dress in which Reynolds has painted Garrick. Mr. Romney was 
 particularly alive to ridicule, and, knowing his feelings in that respect, 
 I do not wonder that he turned the picture to the wall. Wit is a 
 mischievous talent in an unfeeling critic; for a rude sarcasm may so 
 ruffle those fine sensibilities, on which the efforts of genius depend, 
 as to render abortive the noblest conceptions of the mind. Presump- 
 tuous wit is apt to usurp the privilege of wisdom, and the modest 
 artist never thinks of questioning its authority. Even the mildest 
 display of humour, when applied to Mr. Romney’s works, was suffi- 
 cient to damp his genius, and paralyze his efforts. His too sensitive 
 and diffident mind was apt to imagine, that where the humourist 
 could affix any ludicrous idea, there must of necessity be a deviation 
 from truth and nature ; not considering that the finest productions 
 
 * “ I brought Garrick to see his pictures, hoping to interest him in his favour; a large fami- 
 ly piece unluckily arrested his attention ; a gentleman in a close-buckled bob-wig and a scarlet 
 waistcoat laced with gold, with his wife and children, (some sitting, some standing) had taken 
 possession of some yards of canvass very much, as it appeared, to their own satisfaction, for 
 ihey were perfectly amused in a contented abstinence from all thought or action. Upon this 
 unfortunate groupe when Garrick had fixed his lynx’s eyes, he began to put himself into the 
 attitude of the gentleman, and turning to Mr. Romney — “ Upon my word, Sir, said he, this is 
 a very regular wtll-ordered family, and that is a very bright well-rubbed mahogany table, at 
 which that motherly good lady is sitting, and this worthy gentleman in the scarlet waistcoat i- 
 doubtless a very excellent subject — to the state I mean, (if all these are his children) but not for 
 your art, Mr. Romney, if you mean to pursue it, with that success, which I hope will attend 
 you — .” The modest artist took the hint, as it was meant, in good part, and turned his family 
 with their faces to the wall.” — Cumberland’s Memoirs of himself. 
 
57 
 
 of genius have sometimes been made the sport of the wit, and that 
 even the iEneid, the most legitimate of poems, lias been travestied. 
 The following anecdote affords a striking proof of his susceptibility 
 in this respect. When captain Thomas Dalton, a gentleman remark- 
 able for turning every thing to burlesque, was sitting to him for 
 his portrait, he unfortunately cast his eyes upon a large picture that 
 Mr. Romney was engaged with, and which was considerably advan- 
 ced. The subject was, The Initiation of a Virgin into the mysteries 
 of Bacchus, in which ceremony a number of graceful females were 
 engaged. I have forgot what the precise observation was which he 
 made ; but it gave such a ludicrous, and unchaste turn to the whole 
 design, that Mr. Romney too readily yielded to the impression, and 
 the picture was forever laid aside. A painter should be cautious what 
 kind of persons he admits into his private study ; there are three sorts 
 of people, whom he ought particularly to exclude — the humourist, who 
 catches at every idea which he can distort and make ridiculous — the 
 coarse unfeeling caviller, who ruffles and discourages diffident genius 
 — and the indiscriminating flatterer, who, though he cannot impose 
 upon the judgment of a man of sense; yet, by the constant incense of 
 his fulsome compliments, may so far vitiate his feelings, as to render 
 him less capable of bearing the judicious suggestions of liberal and 
 enlightened criticism. — But to return to the sketches. 
 
 One represents the gentleman sitting in a reclining attitude on the 
 right side of the picture, bolding in his left hand a portfolio resting 
 on the ground, and leaning with his right upon a small round table. 
 Behind him, and rather to the right, is an easel supporting a picture, 
 from which it maybe inferred that he was an amateur painter*. His 
 
 * Such in fact he was and, I believe, exhibited some pictures : Wheatley the artist married 
 ■his youngest daughter. 
 
 I 
 
wife is sitting behind the table. From the direction of their looks and 
 the marking of their features, (though imperfectly made out,) it is ma- 
 nifest that strong attention must have been expressed in then* counte- 
 nances. The lady has her youngest child upon her lap, with which the 
 two younger girls are playing. The oldest daughter, about thirteen or 
 fourteen years old, is standing on the opposite side of the picture and 
 turned towards her parents ; she has a book in her hand and is in the 
 act of suspending her reading, whilst her sister, a year younger, 
 is standing by her, and, apparently, making some observations on 
 what has just been read. A boy, the next in age, is standing, with 
 the fore-finger of his right hand pressed upon his lips, in a listening 
 attitude and with fixed attention. This figure unites the opposite 
 groups, by which a graduated, contrasted, and harmonious composi- 
 tion is effected ; and the expression of the whole is so clear and direct, 
 as to falsify Mr. Cumberland’s censure altogether. — Can there be a 
 more appropriate occupation for a domestic party of parents and chil- 
 dren, than that of reading, and communicating instruction? 
 
 Another sketch represents the father seated in the same part of the 
 picture, with his l ight hand resting upon the table, on which a book 
 lies open : he seems to be explaining a passage which he lias just 
 read. The mother is placed on the opposite side of the table, leaning 
 upon it with her right elbow, and resting her face upon her hand. 
 She is slightly bending forward, and seems to be listening with due 
 attention to the observations of her husband. The head of the boy is 
 introduced between them, as if eager to catch instruction from his 
 father’s comments. Next to the mother stands the oldest daughter, 
 bearing in her arms the youngest child ; but still directing her attention 
 towards her father : her next sister is standing by her, with a basket 
 of flowers on her arm, and equally attentive : these three form a 
 
59 
 
 distinct group. A dog intervenes between them and the two young- 
 est girls, who are placed on the left side of the picture playing with 
 a doll upon a seat ; the bigger is represented upon her knees. The 
 composition of this design consists of three groups, so well combined 
 as to constitute a complete and connected whole, which I hold to be 
 one of the most legitimate distributions of figures that can be imairi- 
 ned. — One might almost say of a conversation, or historical compo- 
 sition, what has been said of a convivial party ; — that it should not 
 consist of more than the Muses, nor of fewer than the Graces. 
 
 Pictures which admit of a number of figures, and various episodical 
 groups, though properly called historical, do not constitute the 
 highest order of painting. Grand art is the dramatic and epic, in 
 which one great and simple action seizes and absorbs all the feelings 
 of the spectator ; and either petrifies with horror, or melts with pity, 
 the sympathies of the heart, according to the influence of the subject. 
 1 shall just mention two pictures, allowed to have been the finest that 
 the world ever saw, to illustrate my doctrine: first, the celebrated 
 one by Timanthes, representing the sacrifice of Iphigenia, in which 
 there was a gradation of sympathetic sorrow till it arrived at the 
 acme of pathos: in order, however, to give the utmost effect to the 
 expression, it became necessary not to fritter away the passion by 
 numerous figures and subdivisions, but to produce grandeur and force 
 by the means of simplicity and concentration. The other is the 
 Transfiguration by Raffaelle; I mean the lower part of that picture, 
 in which there is one impressive action; and, had the number of 
 figures been increased, the simplicity, force, and effect would have 
 been diminished in the same ratio. The art of grouping and com- 
 bining figures is highly meritorious, but the soul of painting consists 
 in action and expression; and these are rendered more effective by- 
 being simple and grand. 
 
60 
 
 In 1769 he exhibited a Family-piece, containing the portraits of 
 Sir George Warren, his lady, and daughter. This picture was highly 
 extolled by the public, and brought him still more into notice. Ac- 
 cording to a design in one of liis sketch books, Lady Warren is 
 represented as seated in a graceful and easy posture, with a fronting 
 attitude; but with her face slightly turned to her right, having her 
 left elbow leaning upon a pedestal, and the hand extended over her 
 daughter’s shoulder, a girl about six or seven years old, who is 
 standing by her. The young lady has her hands gently crossed over 
 her bosom, and is caressing a little bird, which she holds in one 
 hand. Sir George, habited in a picturesque style, is standing rather 
 to the left, and somewhat more backward in the picture than his 
 lady, lie has his right arm moderately extended, and is directing 
 her attention to a distant object. The composition is beautiful, cor- 
 rect, and natural. And the simplicity, grace, and feeling expressed 
 in the figure and character of Miss Warren, are admirable. This 
 picture was at Pointon Hall, Cheshire. 
 
 Among Mr. Romney’s earliest and most esteemed friends was 
 William Cockin, with whom he became acquainted at Lancaster, 
 w here the latter practised the humble, but meritorious profession of a 
 teacher of arithmetic and writing*. In 1769 this gentleman ad- 
 dressed a poetical epistle to Mr. Romney, in which, though called a 
 journey, he rather gives an account of his own reflections than of the 
 occurrences w hich took place in liis travelling from London to West- 
 morland. It was afterw ards printed in 1776, along with some other 
 poems by the same author. An extract from it will shew how correct 
 an opinion he had formed of Mr. Romney’s talents, and how com- 
 pletely his prediction lias been verified. 
 
 * For fui ther particulars see the appendix. 
 
61 
 
 “ But hold ! my friend, if mirth and heartfelt glee 
 Still touch your soul, complete these traits for me ; 
 
 The favorite piece eludes my nicest care ; — 
 
 ’Tis yours to charm where poets must despair, 
 
 Yes, yours to charm. — To what indulgent lieav’n 
 Has towTds thy art most bountifully giv’n, 
 
 (Thy nicest knowledge of th’ impassioned face, 
 
 Conceptions true of dignity and grace. 
 
 Colours from beauteous nature, clear and chaste, 
 
 A flowing pencil, industry, and taste,) 
 
 Let but experience add tli’ unerring line, 
 
 The purer laws of classical design, 
 
 Nor doubt to emulate what we admire 
 
 In Guido’s grace, Corregio’s soften’d fire, 
 
 f he num’rous charms, which Vandyke’s tints display. 
 
 And be the Reynolds of thy latter day.” 
 
 The next year (1770) he quitted the Free Society, which began to 
 dwindle, and exhibited with the Chartered Society in Spring Gar- 
 dens. To the catalogue of this Society, in the above mentioned 
 year, he contributed two pictures, — one representing a female in the 
 character of Melancholy, and the other, in that of Mirth. These 
 personifications were borrowed from the poetic fancy of Milton, as 
 displayed in the exquisite poems of L’ Allegro, and 11 Penseroso. 
 Previously to the sending of these pictures to the exhibition room, he 
 received the following letter from Mr. Cumberland. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “ Since I waited 
 
 Saturday Night, 30th March, 
 upon you this morning my mind has been wholly 
 
62 
 
 occupied with reflecting- upon your fine Compositions, which you are 
 preparing- for public exhibition. You will receive it only as a mark 
 of ig-norance, which means to be friendly, when I suggest to you a 
 doubt of the title, which 1 understand you intend to give to your 
 characters. If they are to be described under the terms of L' Allegro 
 e Penseroso, 1 think your dramatis persome will be liable to the 
 following objections. 
 
 “In the first place, the titles are not classical, they are modern, 
 barbarous, and affected. I am not master of so much Italian as to 
 know whether they are proper, hut I conceive not ; they are boiTowed 
 from poetry, and by bringing Milton’s descriptions to our minds, they 
 rob your ideas of their originality. Descriptive poetry has been fre- 
 quently assisted by painting, hut I think the latter art has seldom 
 excelled w hen the pencil has copied after the pen. Mr. West is now 
 transcribing an ode of Horace upon canvass, and has flagrantly failed. 
 I fancy he did not take his Death of General Wolfe from the paltry 
 poem called Quebec or the Conquest of Canada. No, Sir, let the 
 poets w ait upon you, and give your figures their natural titles in their 
 own language, or in established classical terms. The solemn figure 
 is strictly that of the muse Melpomene ; and Mr. Reynolds has led 
 the way in calling the other Euphrosyne. I think I should render 
 those into English by the titles of Meditation and Mirth. 
 
 “You will receive this as nothing more than a suggestion entirely 
 submitted to your better judgment, and of very little importance up- 
 on the whole ; but it is the subscription of my mite, and you are 
 richly welcome to it. 
 
 “I am, Sir, your most obedient humble servant, 
 
 “ Rich i) „ Cumberland/ 
 
63 
 
 Had these pictures, however, been called L' Alley r a and La Pen- 
 serosa, I see no just objection to these titles. They, by having- been 
 adopted by Milton, had acquired a kind of classical character ; and, 
 besides, the age in which Milton lived, was classical as far as con- 
 cerns Italian literature. I do not altogether concur with Mr. Cum- 
 berland in the other opinions which he has expressed in this letter. 
 Poetry may occasionally borrow its ideas from painting, but it is ge- 
 nerally the province of the latter to represent the realities of history 
 and the fictions of poetry. Sometimes, indeed, in those imaginary 
 representations which are not immediately derived from natural ob- 
 jects, but are of a compound character, having nature for their basis, 
 such as sylphs, fairies, and the like ; the painter lias full liberty to 
 follow his own ideas, and to deviate in what manner he pleases from 
 the fictions of the poet, still, however, keeping in view a certain affi- 
 nity with nature ; as, for instance, in the representation of the airy 
 beings in the Tempest, and the Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which 
 he has great latitude for the display of his own independent fancy 
 and invention. 
 
 These pictures had great merit. The drapery of Melancholy was 
 particularly fine ; its forms, were broad, and grand, and executed 
 with such gusto that Mr. West, many years after, complimented Mr. 
 Romney by saying it was equal to Raffaelle. It was in allusion to 
 this picture that Mr. Cumberland wrote the following verses ; obvi- 
 ously with the friendly intention of bringing Mr. Romney more into 
 notice : they were inserted in the Public Advertiser at the time. 
 
 “When Gothic rage had put the arts to flight 
 And wrapt the world in universal night, 
 
 When the dire northern swarm with seas of blood 
 Had drown’d creation in a second flood, 
 
64 
 
 When all was void, disconsolate and dark, 
 
 Rome in her ashes found one latent spark. 
 
 She, not unmindful of her ancient name, 
 
 Nurs’d her last hope and fed the sacred flame ; 
 
 From breast to breast the patriot ardour flew, 
 
 While dawning genius open’d to the view. 
 
 Still as it grew, fresh streams of orient light 
 Beam’d on the world and cheer’d the fainting sight ; 
 Rous’d from the tombs of the illustrious dead 
 Immortal science rear’d her mournful head ; 
 
 And mourn she shall to time’s extremest hour 
 The dire effects of Omar’s savage power, 
 
 When rigid Amrou’s too obedient hand 
 Made Alexandria blaze at his command ; 
 
 Six months he fed the sacrilegious flame 
 With the stor’d volumes of recorded fame : 
 
 There died all memory of the great and good, 
 
 Then Greece and Rome were finally subdu’d. 
 
 Yet monkish ignorance had not quite effac’d 
 All that the chisel wrought, the pencil trac’d ; 
 
 Some precious fragments of the ancient hoard 
 Or happy chance, or curious search restor’d ; 
 
 Fir’d with the thought, the kindling artist gaz’d, 
 And caught perfection from the work he prais’d. 
 
 Of painters then the celebrated race 
 Rose into fame with each attendant grace ; 
 
 Still, as it spread, the wonder-dealing art 
 Refin’d the manners and improv’d the heart ; 
 Where’er the artist wav’d his plastic hand 
 A new creation rose at his command ; 
 
65 
 
 Darkness dispers’d and Italy became 
 Once more the seat of elegance and fame. 
 
 Late, very late, on tills sequester’d isle. 
 
 The heav’n-descended art was seen to smile; 
 
 Seldom she came to Britain’s stormy coast, 
 
 And short her stay, just seen, admir’d and lost. 
 
 Reynolds, at length, her favourite suitor, bore 
 The blushing stranger to his native shore; 
 
 He by no mean, no selfish motives sway’d, 
 
 To public view held forth the liberal maid, 
 
 Call’d his admiring countrymen around, 
 
 Freely declar’d what transports he had found; 
 
 Rous’d them from sloth, provok’d them from despair, 
 
 Bade them, like him, to woo, and win the fair; 
 
 Told them that merit would alike impart 
 To him, or them, a passage to her heart. 
 
 Fir’d at the thought, all came to view her charms, 
 
 All strive, all throng, to clasp her in their arms. 
 
 See Cotes, and Dance, and Gainsborough seize the spoil. 
 And ready Mortimer that laughs at toil ; 
 
 Crown’d with fresh roses graceful Humphry stands, 
 
 While beauty grows immortal from Ills hands ; 
 
 Stubbs like a lion springs upon his prey ; 
 
 Next, bold eccentric Wright who hates the day ; 
 
 Familiar Zoffani with comic art ; 
 
 And West great painter of the human heart. 
 
 These, and yet more unnam’d, that to our eyes 
 Bid lawns and groves and tow’ring mountains rise, 
 
 Smooth the calm sea, or drive th’ impetuous gale, 
 
 Point the bold rock, or strain the bursting sail. 
 
 K 
 
Some hunt ’midst fruit, and flow’ry wreaths for fame, 
 
 And Elmer springs it in the feather’d game. — 
 
 Apart, and bending o’er the azure tide, 
 
 With heav’nly Contemplation* by his side, 
 
 A pensive artist stands in studious mood, 
 
 With down-cast looks he eyes the ebbing flood ; 
 
 No wild ambition swells his temperate heart, 
 
 Himself as pure and patient as his art ; 
 
 Nor sullen sorrow, nor intemp’rate joy 
 The even tenour of his thoughts destroy : 
 
 Shunn’d by the bold, unnotic’d by the proud, 
 
 He strays at distance from the clam’rous crowd ; 
 
 A blushing, backward candidate for fame, 
 
 At once his country’s honour, and its shame. 
 
 — Rous’d then at length, with honest pride inspir’d, 
 
 Romney , advance! be known, and be admir’d.” 
 
 * “ The few who attended the unfashionable exhibition at Spring- 
 Gardens, may possibly recollect to have seen a full-length figure, 
 which answers to this character, painted by a Mi-. Romney, a name 
 totally unknown to the modern professors of virtu.” 
 
 It was about this time, also, that he painted the portrait of Mrs. 
 Cumberland ; on which occasion Mr. Cumberland wrote the follow- 
 ing complimentary verses which he afterwards (in 1789) introduced 
 into his Novel of Arundel. 
 
 “Romney, thy chastest tints select to trace 
 The matron beauties of Eliza’s face, 
 
 Dip thy bright pencil in ccerulean dyes, 
 
67 
 
 And animate the canvass' with her eyes; 
 
 Paint, if thou canst, my kiss upon her cheek, 
 
 Give her a voice and hid the portrait speak ; 
 
 Catch her dear image from a husband’s heart, 
 
 And draw her pure and faultless as thy art.” 
 
 In 1771 he exhibited six pictures, some of which require notice 
 here ; viz — A whole-length portrait of Mrs. Yates in the character 
 of the Tragic Muse. This picture was highly spoken of at the time, 
 both as a faithful likeness of that distinguished actress, and as a well 
 conceived and correct representation of the tragic character ; hut it 
 lias since had the misfortune to he brought into comparison with 
 Sir Joshua’s celebrated portrait of Mrs. Siddons in the same cha- 
 racter ; — a comparison as unfair, as to compare the Pharsalia of 
 Lucan with the iEneid of Virgil ; the latter the production of mature 
 age and cultivated genius, the former of youth and inexperience. 
 When Mr. Romney painted this picture he had scarcely been eight 
 years in London ; and so far from having enriched his mind with fo- 
 reign study, he had barely acquired the mechanical knowledge of his 
 profession. Whereas Reynolds was in the meridian of his powers, 
 having his mind richly stored with a profusion of fine ideas, gathered 
 both from the study of the most exquisite works of art in Europe, 
 and from the contemplation of all the living beauty of the age. liis 
 picture was produced in 1 784, thirteen years after Mr. Romney’s. — 
 An inversion of the order of time which renders all comparison ab- 
 surd. Besides 1 consider Mrs. Siddons at that time as the finest 
 model in the world. Her features bore a strong resemblance to 
 those of the Minerva ; her eyes were piercing, and her forehead 
 grand. After all, I partly agree with Miss Seward* that there are 
 
 * 1 have a very fine print of Sir Joshua’s portrait of Mrs. Siddons in the Tragic Muse, but 
 the defects, and incongruities of the situation and drapery amaze me — a heavy theatrical chair 
 
68 
 
 some incongruities in Reynold’s picture. It is not well conceived, 
 there is nothing- poetical in placing- her in a chair of state in the 
 clouds ; there wants “ The tread majestic ” of that awful imaginary 
 Being- : and the two mutes behind her are like nothing human or 
 divine ; but still, notwithstanding, it is a fine gorgeous picture ; for 
 gorgeous attire is not inconsistent with the Tragic queen : 
 
 let gorgeous tragedy, 
 
 In sceptered pall, come sweeping by. 
 
 She should, however, in my apprehension, be always represented as 
 advancing with a slow and measured step ; because it is not in na- 
 ture for a person under the influence of strong emotions, to remain 
 tranquil and quiescent ; and because such a want of correspondence 
 between feeling and action destroys the effect of the character alto- 
 gether. The attitude and disposition of the drapery are taken from 
 Michael Angelo’s figure of the prophet Joel, in the Cappella Sistina ; 
 but not with Sir Joshua’s usual success, — because they do not suit 
 the subject. There is far more appropriate grandeur in the simple 
 figure of Tragedy, in his admirable picture of Garrick between the 
 theatrical muses. The genius of Reynolds was not eminently distin- 
 guished for inventive faculty ; he frequently borrowed his ideas, and 
 sometimes even from the most trumpery representations ; but his 
 mind had the faculty of imparting excellence to whatever he adopted, 
 except when he borrowed from a genius more lofty than his own, as 
 in the present instance. His forte was elegance and grace ; but he 
 might as well have attempted to bend the bow of Ulysses, as to make 
 the grand ideas of Michael Angelo accord with his own. He thus 
 becomes like a slender man dressed in a wide coat. — I never 
 saw Mr. Romney’s picture of Mrs. Yates except once; it was at the 
 
 of slate on the clouds, gold-lace and pearls, plaited hair and the imperial tiara upon an allegorical 
 figure, which sorrow, and high-souled resolve must be supposed to have incapacitated tor the 
 studied labours of the toilette. — Miss Seward’s Letters vol. 2. 
 
69 
 
 Boy dell-gallery, Cheapside. I well remember the occasion which 
 carried me thither. It was to a dinner given by the old alderman to 
 the distinguished artists, and promoters of the Shakspeare gallery. 
 Mr. Romney from indisposition did not attend. The head of the 
 table was graced by the presence of Lord Rodney and Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. The portrait of Mrs. Yates, and Mr. Northcote’s picture 
 of the Murder of the two Royal Infants in the Tower, were the on- 
 ly works of art there that made any impression upon my memory ; 
 the latter was afterwards removed to the Shakspeare gallery, and is, 
 I think, among the best of that artist’s performances ; the assassins 
 are admirably represented, but the children only so so. 
 
 An Officer conversing with a Brahmin. The officer was Major 
 Pearson*, of the Honourable East India Company’s service, a gentle- 
 man of an elegant and cultivated mind, who wisely and praise- worthily 
 applied the riches which he had acquired in India, to the advancement 
 of science, and the improvement of taste. lie built an elegant house 
 at Burton-in- Kendal, his native place, where lie had a select and va- 
 luable library. He was the particular friend of the late Daniel Brai- 
 thwaite, in whose possession T have seen a fine Head of the Major, 
 
 * In 1787 Mr. Romney began a picture intended as a companion to this ; it represented Mrs. 
 Wogan Browne sealed at a table in the act of drawing, and Mr. Browne standing on the left of 
 her, and reaching to a shelf of books. Mrs. Browne was nearly finished, and the rest of the 
 picture in a stale of great forwardness, so that a few hours of his painting would have completed 
 the work. The price was two hundred Guineas. But Mr. Romney not having received the half 
 price, and not being pressed to finish it, it remained in this state till he left Cavendish Square. 
 I did not sell it with his other pictures, but kept it at the frame-maker’s to take its chance. 
 About two or three years after Mr. Romney’s death, an offer was made through the frame- 
 maker, of thirty Guineas for it; it was a dead weight upon me, and I was glad to get any r 
 thing for it; so I gave it up : it was to be finished by Mr. Oliver. I have thought it proper to 
 mention this picture here because it comes within the list of those 1 proposed to mention. 
 
70 
 
 painted en Medallion by Mr. Romney, from which a seal was en- 
 graved. In the picture exhibited, he is represented as standing un- 
 der the shade of a spreading palm-tree, leaning upon his spontoon, 
 and in earnest conversation with a Brahmin, who is seated on the op- 
 posite side of the picture, in appropriate simplicity of dress and 
 attitude. Beyond the priest stands a black servant, listening with 
 attention to their discourse. The back ground represents a view of 
 the adjacent country, and the fort of which the Major was comman- 
 dant, This picture may, perhaps, be regarded as the best he painted 
 before he went to Italy. 
 
 A Lady and a Child, which might more properly have been called 
 The Virgin and Child ; as it resembles an Italian picture of the 
 Madonna e Bambino. This picture and that of Major Pearson were 
 in the possession of Mr. Wogan Browne of Ireland, who married the 
 only daughter and heiress of Major Pearson. 
 
 The last picture 1 shall notice from the catalogue of this year, is 
 that of a Beggar-Man (three quarters.) It is now in my possession, 
 and is only remarkable as having been painted at one sitting ; whereby 
 the handling is more marked and bold, and the maimer altogether 
 different from his usual style at that time. It was probably intended 
 as an experiment ; it is however a line head. 
 
 In 1 772 he exhibited two three quarters portraits; one was that 
 of Humphry the miniature painter, Ids future fellow-traveller, w hich, 
 f have always understood, was a remarkably fine picture; it is now, 
 I believe, at Knowle. — Here terminates the list of Mr. Romney’s 
 e xhibited pictures. 
 
71 
 
 In the autumn of this year (1772) lie intended to have gone to 
 Italy, and to have passed the following winter at Rome ; but was 
 prevented by a violent fever, and afterwards by an influx of business, 
 so that he was not able to disengage himself till the following spring. 
 His friend Humphry, in the midst of a lucrative business as a minia- 
 ture painter, in which he had eminently distinguished himself; was 
 determined to aspire to a higher branch of the profession, and to lay 
 the foundation of his studies at Rome. He and Mr. Romney agreed 
 to travel together. 
 
 St may be mentioned here as a striking proof of Mr. Romney’s 
 enthusiastic and disinterested passion for his art, that, although it 
 appears from authentic testimony, that his gains must have averaged 
 one hundred pounds a month for the last four months previous to his 
 going abroad, when his price for a three-quarters portrait was only 
 ten or twelve guineas; yet he abandoned all considerations of emo- 
 lument, so alluring to most minds, and devoted himself entirely to the 
 study of his profession for tw o years and a quarter in a foreign coun- 
 try. After discharging certain debts which he had contracted during 
 his recent illness, and leaving two hundred pounds in the hands of 
 his banker, he set off with the remainder for Italy. On his return 
 to England, he found himself minus fifty pounds, w ith a debt incur- 
 red by his brothers of nearly the same amount. Independence of 
 fortune is, undoubtedly, essential to every man’s comfort, and is in 
 general the sole motive of his exertions. No prudent man should 
 lose sight of it ; but the man of genius should be impelled by a no- 
 bler and more exalted stimulus — the ambition to attain pre-eminence. 
 Avarice may sometimes continue to stimulate when independence is 
 acquired ; but nothing will lead to true excellence except a pure and 
 disinterested ambition. To reach the head of bis profession w as Mr 
 
72 
 
 Romney’s great incentive ; every thing yielded to this feeling, was 
 even sacrificed to it; and at that time, perhaps, it might justly have 
 been said, (as in fact it was by some,) that his ambition had got 
 the better of his prudence : the event, however, has justified his 
 conduct ; — for, in consequence of his residence abroad, he was 
 enabled to acquire, not only independence of fortune, but preemi- 
 nence in art. Neither the advanced period of his life, nor the 
 delicacy of his health, nor the multitude of possible contingences 
 which might terrify the imagination of a less enthusiastic traveller, 
 were sufficient to deter him from his purpose ; not to mention, more- 
 over, what ought to have been a very serious consideration with him, — 
 that the time in which he was to reap the fruits of his foreign studies, 
 would thereby be much abridged. His aspiring genius, however, at 
 length prevailed in spite of a tardy and imperfect education ; and he 
 accomplished that in the decline of life when the fervour of youth be- 
 gins to subside, which, under more fortunate circumstances, he might 
 have effected before the meridian of manhood. What Vasari has 
 said of Albert Durer, might witli great truth he applied to him. Nel 
 vero, se quest' liuomo si raro, si diligente, et si universale, havesse 
 potato studiare le cose di Roma nella sua gioventu, sarebbe stato 
 if miglior pittore de paesi nostri. He w as in his thirty ninth year 
 w hen he set off for Italy, so that he may be said to have been full 
 seventeen years behind in the regular course of study. Vandyck 
 went to Italy before he was twenty. West when twenty two, and 
 Reynolds twenty six ; and Rafaelle died when he was thirty seven. 
 
 He was now become well known, and had acquired by the display 
 of his talents the countenance and friendship of several individuals of 
 distinguished rank and taste. He had frequented the Duke of Rich- 
 mond’s fine gallery of casts in Privy Garden, and, during liis studies 
 
73 
 
 there, had attracted the notice and conciliated the friendship of his 
 Grace, who to the last manifested a great regard for him. The Duke 
 was one of those who encouraged him to prosecute his studies in Italy, 
 as was also, his royal highness the Duke of Gloucester, who gave 
 him a letter of recommendation to Pope Ganganelli; through the 
 means of which he obtained permission from his Holiness to erect 
 scaffolds in the Vatican, in order to copy from those celebrated pic- 
 tures of Raffaelle which decorate that palace. 
 
 Mr. Romney and his companion did not leave London till the 20th 
 of March. They sailed from Dover to Calais, and thence proceeded 
 directly to Paris. Here they stopped about a fortnight, taking a 
 cursory survey of every thing that was interesting in art. 
 
 As it is evident from the testimony of all Mr. Romney’s correspon- 
 dents, and from his own frequent confession, that writing was his 
 aversion : it seems matter of wonder that he should have been indu- 
 ced, — either to gratify the importuning curiosity of friendship, or to 
 fill up a vacant hour in the absence of the pencil, or from any other 
 cause, — to write a brief journal of his observations and adventures on 
 his way to Italy. Such a one however l have found, hastily scribbled 
 in a sketch-book ; and, though it is only the first sketch, is superfi- 
 cial and leaves off incomplete ; yet, as it communicates the feelings, 
 impressions, and observations of an artist, it cannot but be, to a cer- 
 tain degree, interesting. 
 
 It seems to have been intended for his friend Thomas Greene, but 
 whether it was ever sent to that gentleman I should doubt 
 
 L 
 
74 
 
 CURSORY OBSERVATIONS AND REFLECTIONS 
 
 MADE 
 
 DURING A JOURNEY FROM ENGLAND TO GENOA. 
 
 By George Romney. 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I have the pleasure to acquaint you that I am now at Paris in 
 good health and spirits, and purpose leaving- it in three or four days. 
 I am very much pleased with the polite manners of the people, their 
 magnificent palaces, and the fine collections of pictures which they 
 contain. I must not, however, omit to tell you how much those 
 scenes, which you and I have formerly trodden together, are changed, 
 or my notions and feelings are become different; what with the 
 French imitating us, and we them, the manners and dresses of the 
 two great cities are brought pretty nearly upon a level ; so much so, 
 that if you were conveyed here asleep, into the midst of a French as- 
 sembly, and then awoke with your ears closed, you would hardly 
 distinguish it from an English one ; the principal difference I have 
 observed in dress is, that the men, from the Prince to the Valet de 
 Chambre, wear muffs of an enormous size, slung round their waists, 
 and always chapeau hr as, though the weather is colder here than I 
 have felt, in England the last winter. 1 have not seen a woman’s 
 hat on, in any order of people. It is apart of dress which gives much 
 softness to the face by throwing it into half shadow of any colour that 
 the wearer chooses. The English ladies dress with more elegance 
 
75 
 
 and greater variety ; and as to beauty and sentiment, the French 
 hold no comparison with them. — The taste for painting, and the art 
 itself are at the lowest ebb ; simplicity they call vulgar, and pure ele- 
 gance passes for gravity and heaviness ; every thing must have the 
 air of a dancer or actor, the colour of a painted beauty, and the dress 
 recommended by the barber, tailor, and mantua-maker. I think 
 there is no better criterion whereby to judge of the minds of a people, 
 than by their general taste ; the correspondence certainly holds good 
 with respect to the French. They are a people that have no idea of 
 simplicity, and are totally void of character and feeling. Nothing 
 can be a greater proof of their degeneracy of taste, than the indiffer- 
 ence, with which they treat every thing produced by those great 
 masters, who have held the first rank for so many ages ; viz., Raphael, 
 Michael Angelo, Titian, &c. They say their works are too dark, 
 gloomy, and heavy. With them every thing must be light, false, 
 fantastical, and full of flutter and extravagance — like themselves. 
 Happily for us, we have to return to a country where manly sense 
 and feeling still remain, and where true taste is growing up ; that 
 kind which inspired the Italian schools. 
 
 “We have no reason hitherto, from what we have seen, to repent 
 of our journey ; but on the contrary, to be inspired with double ardour 
 to pursue the plan we have formed.” 
 
 “ Hear Sir, 
 
 “On the 9th of April we left Paris in a Diligence for Lyons, the 
 company consisted of ten persons, two of whom being able to speak 
 a little English, rendered our journey very agreeable. We passed 
 through the finest country I ever saw; one while it was even, and 
 every acre cultivated for corn, without a hedge to be seen ; and then 
 
76 
 
 hilly and full of vineyards, — one day we travelled on the banks of the 
 Yonne winding- through the finest champaign you can imagine, 
 skilled with hills ; then over rude romantic hills, till we came to 
 the banks of the Saone, (at Challon,) where we took a conveyance 
 by water, which brought us to Lyons in a day and a half, through a 
 still more beautiful country ; having on one side a range of grand 
 mountains, which continued till we approached this most romantically 
 situated town, full of liveliness and gaiety ; where I have now been 
 these six days confined with a slight cold, and sore throat. — Lyons is 
 situated on a point of land where two fine rivers the Saone and the 
 Rhone unite. The quay of the Rhone is very beautiful, and above 
 a mile long. This town contains several public buildings ; particu- 
 larly a hospital, a very fine structure, but not finished. The church 
 of the order of Chartreux with a dome, in the centre of which is the 
 altar, composed of four columns with an entablature of a circular 
 form, which only ties the pillars on each side. It has a canopy of 
 drapery and ornaments supported by cherubs suspended in the air, 
 the whole together has the most charming effect. — The women are of 
 a middle size, with all their forms round and full grown ; full chested, 
 and with necks as round as the Venus de Medici; their faces not 
 very beautiful, and browner than at Paris. 
 
 “We left Lyons April 22nd and hired a boat to carry us to Avig- 
 non in two days, but the second it blew very hard, and obliged us to 
 stop at St. Esprit. 
 
 “ The Rhone is a rapid river, and the prospects from it are in ge- 
 neral very beautiful. The latter part of the first day we saw a range 
 of very grand mountains covered with snow, called the Grenoble 
 mountains. The river likewise affords several grand and picturesque 
 
77 
 
 views ; some of the towns are particularly so, and group well with 
 the hills and rocks. On the way from St. Esprit to Nismes, and 
 about twelve miles from the latter place, is a Roman aqueduct, per- 
 haps the most beautiful specimen of that kind of architecture in the 
 world. Nismes is situated facing the south east, with a range of hills 
 forming the quarter of a circle to the north west; the plains before it 
 are very extensive, beautiful, and fertile ; they are covered with olive- 
 trees, and the ground between each tree is sown with some kind of 
 grain, or planted with vines : they are a part of the plains of Lan- 
 guedoc. Here are several pieces of Roman architecture ; an Amphi- 
 theatre, a square building called the Maison Quarree, and a temple 
 of Diana. This temple faces the morning sun; but the front is quite 
 defaced ; the inside is of the Corinthian order, with an altar facing 
 the entrance. The spaces on each side of the altar have flat ceilings, 
 very beautiful ; the body of the temple is a simple arch, with ribs or 
 projections about two feet and a half w ide, and four inches deep ; the 
 intervals are of the same width, they cross from side to side, and have 
 a good effect. A great part of the roof is fallen in, and lies in heaps 
 of ruins, which, with fragments of cornices, capitals, bases, columns, 
 &c. form together a picturesque assemblage of beautiful objects. It 
 may be seen in Paladio. Before the temple there has been a bath 
 and fountain, which were repaired by Francis the first. 
 
 “ The Maison Quarree was likewise repaired by Francis, and con- 
 verted into a church ; it has nine columns on each side, and six at 
 each end, w ithout pedestals ; the space betw een them is the same as 
 the plinth of the base of the columns. It has a portico which goes to 
 the fourth column, and a beautiful door-case with an architrave round 
 it, and a cornice without a frize, with columns. The capitals and 
 cornice are carved with exquisite taste ; the columns are sunk into 
 
78 
 
 the wall a third. The wall is grooved at the joints about an inch 
 wide, and continues to the sixth column. It is the most chaste and 
 beautiful building imaginable. 
 
 “ The Amphitheatre is about the size of Ranelagh within ; the seats, 
 which are thirty in number, rising one above another, are composed 
 of stones about six feet long', and a foot and a half square. The 
 architecture is plain, and not in so good a taste as the other 
 buildings. 
 
 “ Upon the hill behind the town, are the ruins of a high tower, 
 from the top of which the sea may be seen, off Marseilles ; it served 
 as a light-house on extraordinary occasions. 
 
 “ From Nismes we went to Avignon, a place famous for having 
 been the residence of many Popes when Rome was unhealthy. It is 
 beautifully situated on the banks of the Rhone, which divides and 
 forms an island of about five or six acres ; across which and the two 
 branches of the river, there was formerly a bridge nearly a quarter of 
 a mile long. Avignon is placed on a small hill, with an easy ascent 
 on all sides, except that next the river, which is a steep rock of about 
 two hundred feet in height, with the citadel on the top, and an old 
 palace where the Popes resided. From thence is a delightful prospect 
 to the north east. There is a very grand mountain about ten miles 
 off, the top of which is covered with snow ; and on the opposite side 
 of the river, to the north, is a Chartreuse on a little hill, very beau- 
 tifully and strongly situated. This religious order seems to have 
 chosen all the most beautiful parts of France for their habitations. 
 To the south is a fine cultivated country with hills on both sides. 
 
79 
 
 “We were much pleased with the dress of the lower order of wo- 
 men at Avignon ; their heads were dressed with cambric, or muslin — 
 a cap with a plain border round the face, which projected very for- 
 ward all round, and a kind of cambric handkerchief, which tied under 
 the chin, and covered the whole head in a very picturesque manner. 
 Their faces are much browner than at Paris, which makes their linen 
 look very white, and gives the whole head a very beautiful effect. 
 As white is said to repel the rays of the sun more than any other 
 colour, this may be their reason for wearing so much linen round 
 their heads in so hot a climate ; as Avignon is supposed to be hotter 
 in summer than any other part of France. They wear little jackets 
 of different colours, but principally black, without stays ; and a 
 handkerchief round the neck, of coloured silk, or muslin, that covers 
 most of it, and meets between the breasts. Their petticoats are of a 
 different colour from that of their jackets, and reach a little below their 
 knees; which gives them a very light and airy appearance, and 
 exposes limbs round and cleanly formed. This may be supposed to 
 be very delightful to the eye of a painter, who had always been ac- 
 customed to see women dressed in stays, with petticoats almost 
 covering the heels. 
 
 “ From thence we went to Aix in a cabriolet, which took us a day 
 and a half, as they go about the pace of an English waggon. The 
 country was sometimes hilly, with pretty valleys occasionally inter- 
 vening. Aix is situated amongst the hills in a fine air; it is well 
 built and clean. There is a grand walk in the middle of the town, 
 w ith four rows of trees ; and in the middle part, which is the widest, 
 there are four fountains ; one is a spring of warm water. At the 
 termination of the w alk to the south, is a prospect filled with little 
 country houses. 
 
80 
 
 “ From Aix we went to Marseilles (which is about fifteen miles) 
 over a hilly country, till we came within three miles of the latter 
 place. At the descent of the hill we had a view of Marseilles, situ- 
 ated in a valley about five or six miles across, scattered all over with 
 houses about a hundred or two hundred yards from each other, which 
 has a disagreeable effect. On the west is a bay, which forms a 
 semicircle from the north side of the town to the west — or rather 
 south west; thence the sea continues to the south. In the bay, 
 about half a league south west of the harbour’s mouth, are two islands 
 with fortifications. On the south east are very high mountains, bar- 
 ren and rocky, which extend to the north east, and from thence are 
 hills which run to the north west. We entered Marseilles on the 
 north side, through a street with an easy descent, which opened into 
 a public w r alk with very high well built houses on each side. Being 
 of great extent, and shaded with a row of lofty trees on both sides, 
 it presents a striking view as you enter the town. The harbour is 
 very beautiful and secure ; but not deep enough to float a man of 
 war. The entrance is about a hundred and fifty yards wide, with a 
 fort on each side, but not very strong ; it is about a quarter of a mile 
 long, w ith a very fine quay, particularly on the north side : at the 
 east end is the arsenal ; on the w est are carpenters’ yards, warehou- 
 ses, &c. ; behind them a very strong building, which is the barracks 
 lor the soldiers ; and on the same side to the south, close to the town, 
 is a very steep Bill with a strong castle on the top, which commands 
 a fine prospect of the town and harbour, the country and adjacent 
 mountains. S he houses are in general, good, and very high, six or 
 seven stories. The w omen are more beautiful than at Paris, and 
 dress very gay, with less paint. 
 
 “We left Marseilles the 2(>th of April, and having passed along the 
 valley in which it is situated, till the mountains that encompass it 
 
81 
 
 draw near together, began to ascend one of the most beautiful val- 
 leys I ever saw, with a small river winding down the middle of it, 
 having in front, to the north east, a most picturesque and grand 
 rocky mountain of angular forms. — Sometimes there was rising- 
 ground, covered with pines of a brownish green, which gave a beau- 
 tiful opposition to the light grey mountains, shadowed in parts by 
 clouds that hung over, of a blue grey tint, and broken with shrubs of 
 a brownish hue ; while parts of other mountains of angular shapes 
 rose behind in shadow. In some places, groups of trees, of the most 
 beautiful forms, and of a tender green, rose from the river side ; 
 through the openings of which might be seen the blue mountains, 
 broken with the slender streight stems of a light grey speckled colour, 
 and with beautiful branching foliage : in other places very tall bul- 
 rushes mingled with them. This scenery continued varying till the 
 mountains almost closed, with rocks of a very steep and romantic 
 shape ; while the trees on the margin of the river, became still more 
 beautiful, if possible, from the effect of the evening sun. Now its 
 rays, half intercepted by the branching trees, fell upon the white bul- 
 rushes ; then the rich margin of the brook, abounding with all kinds 
 of beautiful plants and shrubs, was in shadow; the road all the while 
 winding with the river, till it opened into a delightful valley about 
 two miles in length and one in breadth ; when it parted from the 
 stream, and, passing through the valley, brought us to a little village 
 at its extremity, where we lodged for the night. From our chamber- 
 window we had a beautiful prospect of the scenery, which was more 
 like that described in romance, than any 1 had ever seen before : it 
 seemed to be a place peculiarly well siuted for the study of landscape 
 painting. — The next day we met with nothing remarkable but the wood 
 famous for robberies, which continues for some miles, and which we 
 passed through in the afternoon. The road continued winding in a 
 
 M 
 
82 
 
 narrow valley, round very high hills covered principally with firs, 
 without a soul to be seen, except here and there a goatherd ; at the 
 termination of which was a little village, where we lodged for the 
 night. The following morning we passed through a most beautiful 
 valley, quite level, cultivated like a garden, and full of all kinds of 
 fruit trees, with very high mountains on every side ; till we came in 
 sight of the sea, near which we stopped to dine at a small town cal- 
 led Frejus. We saw the ruins of an amphitheatre as we entered, and 
 those of an aqueduct as we left it, both very manifest. There were 
 some exceedingly fine views of the country we had already passed 
 through, and well suited for the study of a landscape painter ; they 
 were of a character different from any thing we had seen before. 
 From thence we ascended a very high mountain, Esterelles, and 
 continued winding near the top till we came to a farm-house and inn, 
 very romantically situated in the midst of grand scenery, about six 
 miles from the town where we dined. We had many very grand 
 views of the tops of mountains rising one behind another, all covered 
 with wood ; except where it was burnt in the war before the last, by 
 the Sardinians and Austrians. 
 
 “ ddie next morning we descended the mountains till we came to 
 the shore of the Mediterranean, and continued till we reached Anti- 
 bes. This is a frontier tow n with a pretty harbour ; it has a double 
 wall round it, and a fort which seems to be very strong. Thence we 
 had a view of Nice, and of the Appenine mountains rising behind it; 
 and of other mountains joining, w hich run all along the shore, and 
 rise one behind another till they are lost in the clouds. After dinner 
 we set forward for Nice, which is about three leagues distant. When 
 we came within a league, we crossed a river (Var) that separates 
 France from Italy, and arrived at Nice at six o’clock. 
 
83 
 
 “ Nice is close to the sea, on one side is a river, and on the other 
 a high rocky hill, which had formerly a strong castle ; it was blown 
 up by Lewis the fourteenth. The harbour is very small, and situate 
 on the other side of the hill in a flat and fertile bottom ; the approach 
 to it from the town, is round the hill on the land side. 
 
 “ Several little country houses are scattered about, likewise on the 
 sides of the hills which are much cultivated; the whole having a 
 beautiful effect. The town is small, and its situation pleasant, en- 
 joying a fine temperate air. Over a mountain to the east, two miles 
 from Nice, is Villa-Franca, a very small town and harbour, with a 
 pretty long bay. It is a steep descent on all sides to the brink 
 of the bay, so that it can have but little communication with the 
 country. The day we arrived at Nice, being Sunday and the 2d of 
 May, we saw may-poles erected in several streets, and in the evening, 
 rings of women, about fifteen or twenty in each, hand in hand, dan- 
 cing round them, like The Hours of Guido, and singing beautiful 
 airs. Their movements were sometimes slow, and increased gradu- 
 ally till they became very quick, then slow again ; they were per- 
 fectly in time with one another, and moved with the greatest vivacity 
 and spirit. The air of antiquity it carried along with it, had the 
 most enchanting effect. I thought myself removed two thousand 
 years back, and a spectator of scenes in Arcadia. About four o’clock 
 the next morning, I was awaked by a boy in the street, singingwith 
 amazing spirit and simplicity, some of the sweetest Italian airs I had 
 ever heard. I he next day we engaged the captain of a French Tar- 
 tane, to convey us to Leghorn, for four louis d’ors and a half, and 
 sailed the Thursday following. After being two days at sea, we were 
 forced back by contrary winds; we put to sea twice more, and twice 
 more were obliged to return. On holy-thursday Mr. Aubert accom- 
 
84 
 
 panied us to the top of a somewhat high hill, about two miles off, 
 where the ancient city Cemenelion stood; we ascended by an old paved 
 road which leads to the top. We called on a Mr. Lyon, who has a 
 very pretty house, that commands a most delightful prospect. To the 
 south you have a very extensive view of the sea, and on each side, 
 beautiful and rich valleys, encompassed with high hills and mountains 
 that form a kind of amphitheatre. Being holy-day, the young men 
 and women of the neighbouring peasants were assembled in Mr. 
 Lyon’s yard with a fiddler, and dancing minuets and jigs at the time 
 we entered ; which gave us no small delight. A little time after, 
 they formed a ring round a may-pole, and danced and sung altoge- 
 ther, hand in hand, with that glee, which arises from innocence, 
 simplicity, and liveliness. The airs were light, sprightly, and ele- 
 gant. The women were dressed in muslin and cotton, mostly white ; 
 some had changeable silk bodies and sleeves, but all without stays ; 
 which gave a lightness and flexibility to their bodies and limbs, and 
 a variety and grace to their action, which were exceedingly pleasing. 
 
 “At the distance of about two hundred yards are the ruins of an 
 ancient amphitheatre, of an oval form, and about forty yards in 
 length ; it is a plain building. Close by it, is a gate-way, which 
 opens into an extensive garden with an avenue of trees that runs 
 across it; this afforded a very cool and refreshing shade. There were 
 several peasants playing at bowls when we passed through it. On 
 one side is a very handsome house, but out of repair ; a little beyond 
 it, close to the avenue of trees, are the ruins of a Roman temple de- 
 dicated to Diana, likewise a plain building. The termination of the 
 walk opened to the front of a church and monastery, situate close to 
 a steep declivity of the hill. They are both plain structures ; the 
 latter forms a quadrangle, and has a pretty garden in the middle. On 
 
85 
 
 the south side of the monastery, is a long garden applied to various 
 uses; every monk has a small part allotted to himself, which Sic cul- 
 tivates in whatever manner he pleases. On the right hand, at the 
 bottom of the garden, is a small winding path, which leads up to a 
 higher garden, more wild and woody ; this was formerly the citadel, 
 and is about eight yards .above the other garden : as we ascended we 
 observed some pieces of the old Roman wall joined to the rock. On 
 the west side of the higher garden is the temple of Diana above 
 mentioned ; on the east side there is a steep declivity to the valley 
 that leads to Nice. The width of the valley is principally occupied 
 by the bed of the river of grey stones, which is filled when the snow 
 melts from the Appenine mountains ; but in general, the river is very 
 small. The upper garden is about thirty yards square, from which 
 there is an exceedingly fine prospect. To the south, you see Nice, 
 and close to it, on the east side, a rocky hill crowned with the ruins 
 of an old castle ; and close to that, the little harbour with its various 
 shipping. On the east of the harbour, from a point projecting into 
 the sea, rises a small hill, the bottom of which is covered with wood, 
 principally olive trees, which become more scattered as they rise up 
 the side ; about midway the hill becomes smooth, and is composed of 
 large simple forms, tinted, as it might seem, with brown ochre and 
 grey. On the summit is a small castle, which adds beauty to the 
 whole. It is garrisoned by about eight invalids and a governor. It 
 was attacked in the war of forty five by the French, who with great 
 difficulty took it. Admiral Matthews had a fleet at the time in the 
 bay of Villa-Franca, close by on the east, and assisted the Piedmon- 
 tese with guns. After it was taken lie made his escape w ith some 
 difficulty. To the east of the convent, are high barren hills with 
 rugged rocks towards the bottom ; and behind them, lofty mountains. 
 I'o the north, the valley with its river winds round the hills, and is 
 
86 
 
 lost among- the mountains, which exhibit a very rude and rugged 
 appearance. The convent of St. Pont (for women) is about a 
 quarter of a mile from this ; it is a very large and beautiful building, 
 with a church situate on a little eminence, by the side of the river. 
 It is very extraordinary that the policy of so many different nations 
 should suffer so large a proportion of both sexes to be secluded from 
 the world as useless members of society ; one may suppose that upon 
 an average every twentieth woman, and every fortieth man, are shut 
 up for life, to spend their time in idleness and sloth. If religion were 
 their motive, they might find sufficient time to serve God, and still 
 follow any occupation of life ; and thus become serviceable to their 
 relations, their friends, and their fellow creatures in general. They 
 will say it is virtue to abstain from sexual intercourse ; but surely it 
 is more commendable to marry, since, by so doing, they not only 
 become industrious in bringing up their children, and contribute to 
 the propagation of mankind ; but they retain the affections of the 
 heart to the latest old age ; the monks, on the contrary, by choking 
 their love for women, (which they must do, or indulge clandestine 
 and criminal attachments,) extinguish all the social affections, which 
 are the basis of religion ; and become idle and useless beings, full of 
 pride, envy, malice, and false religion, which consists of mechanical 
 forms and self-applause. — After we had remained at Nice three weeks 
 and a day, and had made three fruitless attempts to sail ; we engaged 
 to go with Mr. Aubert in a Felucca to Genoa. To our mortification, 
 however, the Tartane sailed the day before us, and g*ot clear off with 
 a fair wind. 
 
 “ The Nissard women are very ordinary looking, they are remar- 
 kably brown and rather masculine ; notwithstanding, they are ex- 
 ceedingly pleasing in the dances. 
 
“We left Nice the 25th of May with a fair wind, and arrived at 
 Monton within an hour and a half, which is fifteen miles. We had 
 a fine view of Monaco, the capital of a very small province. It is 
 eight miles from Nice, and is situated upon a flat rock, about thirty 
 or forty feet high from the water and mostly very steep. It seemed 
 to have a strong fortification round it, particularly where the declivity 
 is accessible ; and the whole had a fine effect, especially the palace, 
 which is rather large. A very steep mountain rises behind, the bot- 
 tom of which is cultivated ; there is very little flat ground. Mon- 
 ton is a pretty town, and belongs to the same prince, who has like- 
 wise a small palace near it, very beautifully situated at the foot of 
 exceedingly grand and rude mountains rising steep and pointed, and 
 of the most romantic forms I ever saw. The produce of the place is 
 lemons ; from the flowers they make citron water, which is reckoned 
 to bring an interest of ten or twelve per cent, for their money. The 
 produce from the lemon trees in the prince’s garden, is manufactured 
 for his use. His revenue is estimated, with his estates in France, at 
 twenty thousand pounds sterling annually. He holds a court when 
 at Monaco, and has monarchal power. The King of France allows 
 him a garrison for Monaco. 
 
 “ Mr. Aubert took us to the house of Mr. Albans, a great mer- 
 chant and polite gentleman, where we continued till the 27th, on 
 which day, at ten o’clock in the morning, having a fair wind, we set 
 sail for Genoa, which is a hundred and forty five miles distant. We 
 had a very fine prospect of the coast all the way, w hich consists of 
 lofty mountains of every form and shape, but in general very steep 
 to the shore. There are many little towns, beautifully situated, but 
 poor ; as there is very little level ground to cultivate, their principal 
 produce is from fruit trees. After the most delightful voyage ima- 
 
88 
 
 finable, with a wind that carried us sometimes fourteen miles an hour, 
 we reached Genoa about twelve o’clock at night ; and continued in 
 the boat in the harbour till three, the time when the gates were open- 
 ed. The harbour has two moles or piers, which give it a circular 
 form ; it admits a swell of the sea that renders it insecure. Near 
 one of the piers, on the left hand as you enter, is a light-house of 
 great height. Thence rises a hill, which forms a crescent round the 
 town and harbour ; it rises very high behind the town, so that they 
 call it a mountain, and sloping down again to the right, forms a head 
 with a steep rock to the water. On each side of this lull is a valley 
 that runs up into the country ; and on each side, beyond these 
 little valleys, are very high mountains, which give a grand effect to 
 the town. The valleys are very rich, highly cultivated, and full of 
 beautiful country houses. The town likewise forms a crescent close 
 to the harbour ; if is not large, but very beautiful, both in the whole, 
 and in the parts. The streets are very narrow, but clean and well 
 paved; the houses are high, in general five or six stories; the third 
 or fourth is the best, which is very lofty, and the rooms large. The 
 fronts are for the most part painted in imitation of different coloured 
 marbles, architecture, and figures ; but not unfrequently are real ar- 
 chitecture in marble, laden with ornaments, so that they have more 
 the appearance of palaces, than of the habitations of trades-people. 
 There are many palaces ; the Strada-Nuova and the Strada-Balbi con- 
 sist entirely of them, and have a most magnificent appearance. It is 
 seldom or never, that you can see any pure or chaste architecture ; 
 it is generally very luxuriant, grand, arid heavy ; all the fronts differ 
 from each other; hut as it is the style of the town, every thing seems 
 right. All the effects of the streets and openings are very rich and 
 gl and. S he painting of (he houses has an uncommon effect, some- 
 thing like that produced by the scenery of a play-house, or by those 
 
89 
 
 representations of palaces described in romance, made for elegance 
 and pleasure ; — in short, it has a kind of holiday or gala appearance. 
 
 “ May 29th, we went to see the Balhi palace, Strada-Balbi. The 
 rooms are not large, hut most beautifully fitted up. The ceilings are 
 painted with allegorical subjects in Fresco. The subjects of some of 
 the friezes are liver gods among bulrushes ; very dark, with little 
 breaks in the sky : the friezes are very wide, and have a most beau- 
 tiful effect, painted in this manner. All the walls are painted with 
 ornaments of stone colour to fit the pictures ; so that the pictures 
 might seem to have been originally designed for their places. It con- 
 tains a great number by different masters, but none very capital. 
 There are some by Vandyke, very good, but slight; and more in the 
 Flemish style than those we have in England. There are the be- 
 ginnings of two heads painted in oil upon paper pasted on canvass, 
 which have great thinness and freshness. There is a small Parmigi- 
 ano with some parts very good. A Buonaroti, some of the heads 
 very fine ; the subject, Christ praying in the garden. 
 
 “The Durazzo Palace, Strada-Balbi, is reckoned the most beau- 
 tiful, and I think it is the most pleasing and elegant I have seen, ex- 
 cept Versailles. The entrance has a most enchanting effect in the 
 contrivance, though the architecture is not pure. It has a very 
 beautiful gallery, but small ; all the rooms are rather small, but very 
 rich ; the ceilings and walls are painted in Fresco by the same mas- 
 ter that painted the Balbi palace. In the room adjoining to the gal- 
 lery is a very capital picture* by Paul Veronese, of Mary Magdalene 
 
 * Sir Joshua makes the following observations on this picture, which, though less in detail, 
 shew that he and Mr. Romney coincided in opinion. “But the picture which should be first 
 mentioned is very large, and the most capital one I have seen by Paul Veronese, of Mary 
 
 N 
 
90 
 
 washing the feet of Christ. It is in excellent preservation, and has 
 the freshness of one painted but a year. The surface is dry without 
 any gloss, like a Distemper painting ; so that, though it hangs facing 
 the light, it may be seen to great advantage. There is a fluency in 
 the touch that will convince every artist who examines it, that it was 
 not painted with oil, but with some very thin limpid vehicle ; nor in 
 distemper, I believe, as the colours are better united in some parts 
 of the picture than that will admit of. There is a very rugged kind 
 of touch in the hair and other parts, as if it had been painted with 
 simple water. There are some parts where it is broken a little, and 
 looks dry and crumbly. 
 
 “The palace is very rich and elegant, and painted much 
 
 in the same manner as the others. There are several pictures, 
 and some good ones, in it; one in particular, The Assumption of 
 the Virgin, by Corregio, or Parmigiano. It is a very small pic- 
 ture, but a most beautiful composition. The figure of the virgin 
 is suspended in the clouds in a very becoming posture, with her 
 arms extended ; and looking up, with a very sweet countenance, 
 but not very beautiful. She is surrounded by a group of angels and 
 children, hand in hand ; some of the angels are in the most graceful 
 actions imaginable, and the forms of their limbs and heads are per- 
 fectly angelic : the beauty of the features, the angelic sweetness of 
 the countenances, and the elegant disposition of the hair, make them 
 divine beyond conception or imitation. There are two whole lengths 
 by Vandyke, a gentleman and lady ; the gentleman is on horseback 
 in a very spirited action ; the lady’s picture is very slight, but charm- 
 ingly coloured ; it has a transparency throughout, and a glow in the 
 face, that I have never seen before in Vandyke; the attitude is very 
 
 Magdalene washing the feet of Christ, containing about ten figures as large as life, admirably 
 finished.” 
 
91 
 
 simple, but very graceful and genteel. There are two beginnings of 
 them in oil colour, upon paper pasted on canvass ; they are very thin 
 and transparent, and seem to be painted with nothing but vermilion, 
 brown ochre, white, and black. There are some other pictures by 
 Vandyke, and a very good one by Rubens, a Bacchanalian piece. 
 This palace has a Mezzanine story, that is, a story below the grand 
 one, about eight feet high ; it is very beautifully fitted up, and has a 
 retired, cool, and pleasing effect. Observe, the principal story is 
 generally the third, fourth, or fifth. 
 
 “ fhe palace has nothing remarkable but a small gallery, 
 
 which is the most complete piece of elegance 1 ever saw ; it has two 
 doors of looking-glass at each end, covered with light gold ornaments, 
 in the most beautiful taste ; the carving of the looking-glass frames, 
 the sconces, the table frames, the chairs, and the ceiling are in the finest 
 taste imaginable, and gilded. The floor is composed of various sorts 
 of the finest marble ; the ceiling is painted ; and there are two circu- 
 lar pictures at each end, over the doors, but they are very indifferent, 
 fhe Duke of York intended to have built a room in the same taste, 
 bad lie lived. In the room adjoining there is a very fine head by 
 Raphael, a Judith with the head of Holoferues. The face is beauti- 
 ful and grand ; there is great spirit and strength in the eye, and the 
 mouth is grave, but very sweet, it is a very good tone of colour, 
 is highly finished, and in excellent preservation. 
 
 “ The palace Daria has been beautiful, but is now out of repair; 
 as the prince to whom it belongs resides at Rome. fhe front and 
 the ceilings were painted by Perino del Vago ; they are in the gusto 
 of Raphael’s school, but inferior to Romano and Polidore ; the ceiling 
 of the grand saloon represents the fall of the giants, and has great 
 
92 
 
 merit. Most of the other ceilings are divided into small compart- 
 ments, and some of them are very sweet compositions. The orna- 
 ments are in very good taste. This palace is situated on the north- 
 west side of the harbour, and affords a most delightful prospect of the 
 town and harbour. In the church of the Jesuits (St. Ambrogio) 
 which is near the Doge’s palace, there is a very fine picture of the 
 Assumption of the Virgin, by Guido, and two pretty good ones by 
 Rubens, on the same subject. There are many churches, and they 
 are in general very rich, and some of them beautiful. The church 
 St. Maria di Carignano is situated on a hill east of the town ; it is 
 constructed after the model of St. Peters at Rome ; the architecture 
 in the inside is very well. The situation is charming ; from the dome 
 you see the outer wall of the town, which runs upon the ridge of the 
 high hill behind the town, from whence there is a steep declivity, 
 which seems to render it inaccessible. You have also a very good 
 view of the town, which lies below you ; it is of a triangular form, 
 but the side next the harbour is curved. There are a great number 
 of houses scattered on all sides, all beautifully situated, and in gene- 
 ral very elegant. From the church, likewise, we saw three mortars 
 lying near the precipice at the sea shore, on the south east side of the 
 town, where the skirmish began when the Genoese drove the Ger- 
 mans out of the town, and recovered their liberty in 1756. 
 
 “The Genoese women are in general elegant in their figure, have 
 great ease in their action, and walk extremely well. They are of a 
 good size, are fail*, but very pale, which is occasioned by the dress 
 they wear. It is a loose robe of calico or thick muslin, which 
 goes over their heads like a veil, and over their shoulders and arms 
 like a capucbin. They let it fall over the forehead as low as the eye 
 brows, and twist it under the chin ; they generally have one hand 
 
93 
 
 Up almost to the chin, holding the veil with their fingers beautifully 
 disposed among the folds, and the other across the breast. They are 
 short-waisted, and have very long trains, which produce the most 
 elegant flowing lines imaginable ; so that with the beautiful folds of 
 the veil or cloak, they are, when they move, the finest figures that 
 can be conceived. When the veil is off, you see the most picturesque 
 and elegant hair ; it is braided up the back of the head and twisted 
 round several times and beautifully varied ; it is pinned with a long 
 silver pin : where it is not braided, it is flat to the head with some 
 loose hair round the face.’’ 
 
 From Genoa they proceeded by sea to Leghorn, in which voyage 
 they encountered a tremendous storm ; the danger of which was con- 
 siderably increased by the ill-timed superstition of the Italian sailors, 
 who, instead of exerting themselves manfully in navigating the vessel, 
 sought safety in prayers to their saints. The circumstances of their 
 escape I do not remember, but I should presume that it was not 
 through the instrumentality of saints ; probably the Italians were 
 roused to exertion by the exhortations and remonstrances of their 
 fellow- voyagers, whose efforts under divine providence, were, at 
 length, crowned with success. From Leghorn the adventurous tra- 
 vellers took the route by Fisa and Florence; from which latter city, 
 after having taken a hasty view of the magnificent works of art 
 which it contains, they proceeded directly to Rome, where they ar- 
 rived on the 18th of dune. 
 
 No sooner was Mr. Romney settled in this illustrious city, than he 
 commenced his studies with the most enthusiastic ardour ; and, in 
 order to make the most of his limited time, to be quiet, and free from 
 every kind of interruption, he in a great measure withdrew from soci- 
 
94 
 
 ety. Mr. Hayley, however, gives a different account of his motives, 
 “ Such (says lie) was the cautious reserve of Romney, which his sin- 
 gular mental infirmity, a perpetual dread of enemies, inspired, that 
 he avoided all further intercourse with his fellow-traveller, and with 
 all the other artists of his country who were then studying at Rome.’ 
 To impute injurious motives would have been uncandid in any bio- 
 grapher, hut it is particularly ungracious in Mr. Hayley, the profes- 
 sed friend of Mr. Romney. The great Michael Angelo, who devoted 
 himself in like manner to sequestered study, did not escape a similar 
 imputation; hut Vasari his more faithful biographer, after showing 
 how groundless such charges were, makes that, which was intended 
 as a reproach, redound to his honour. “ Ne paja nuovo a nessuno, che 
 Michelagnolo si dilettasse della solitudine, come quelli, che era in- 
 namorato dell’ arte sua, che vuol Fuomo per se solo, e cogitativo : e 
 perche e necessario, che chi vuole attendere agli studi di quella, fng- 
 ga le compagnie ; avvengache chi attende alle considerazioni dell 
 arte, non e mai solo, ne senza pensieri : e coloro, che gliele attribui- 
 vano a fantasticheria, et a stranezza, hanno il torto ; perche chi vuole 
 operar bene, bisogna allontanarsi da tutte le cure, e fastidj, perche 
 la virtu vuol pensamento, solitudine, e comodita, e non errare con la 
 monte.” It has been said, that the virus of the adder’s bite may be 
 counteracted by the application of its own grease : I shall pursue a 
 similar course, and apply the following just observation by Mr, 
 Hayley as an antidote to his own uncandid and illiberal reflection. 
 “ Men, who withdraw themselves from the ordinary forms of society , 
 whether delicacy of health, or a passion for study, or both united,, 
 occasion their retirement from the world, are generally obliged to pay 
 a heavy tax for the privacy they enjoy, in having their habits of life, 
 and their temper, very darkly misrepresented by the ignorant malice 
 of offended pride.” 
 
95 
 
 Mr. Romney, however, did not altogether relinquish society ; he 
 occasionally associated with some individuals of like habits and dis- 
 position, and it was at Rome that he first became acquainted with 
 Wright of Derby, Harrison the architect, and Marchant the sculptor 
 in gems; all men highly distinguished for professional talent, and 
 private worth. It is very probable that he might have disliked the 
 intrusion of pryers, and the company of idlers ; but I never at anv 
 time noticed that peculiar dread of enemies which Mr. Hayley im- 
 putes to him. He had penetration enough to distinguish who were 
 friendly to him, and who were not, and of course was shy towards 
 the latter ; this was natural. I am disposed also to admit, though I 
 do not know that it was the fact, that he might have felt some dread 
 of the friends of Sir Joshua when they came about him; knowing 
 well, that they were so attached to his rival from personal motives, 
 that he had little chance of candour from them. I shall just mention 
 one circumstance, which I think would justify him in entertaining 
 such feelings. Sir Abraham Hume came in 1 783 to sit for a three- 
 quarters portrait, the price at that time was only twenty guineas. Mr. 
 Romney exerted himself, and produced a portrait accurate in like- 
 ness, and in every respect equal to the works of Reynolds ; if it had 
 any fault, it was, perhaps, that of being too good. It however, was 
 never claimed. After Mr. Romney’s death, Sir John Leicester of- 
 fered ten guineas for it, which I declined, and then gave it to Mr. 
 Wilson, of Dallam Tower, Sir Abraham’s friend. It is very extraor- 
 dinary that Sir Abraham, who has the character of being an amateur, 
 a connoisseur, and a patron of art, could have been capable of such 
 conduct. This however is the fact; and this was done by Sir Jos- 
 hua’s particular friend. 
 
 A coolness did certainly take place between him and Humphry 
 soon after their arrival at Rome, which was owing to some captious- 
 
96 
 
 ness on the part of the latter ; it does not, however, appear to have 
 been of long- duration. Humphry was undoubtedly a gossip and an 
 idler, which was not the case with Mr. Romney, who might probably 
 wish to study when the former wanted to talk. 
 
 During his residence in Rome, comprising a period of a year and 
 seven months, little is known respecting him : in a life devoted to 
 study, each day is so like the preceding, that one might almost say, 
 as far as related to Mr. Romney’s habits, una dies totarn continet vi- 
 tarn. But although he himself is, as it were, invisible, we can trace 
 him by his works ; and though many of them have undoubtedly per- 
 ished, having served the temporary purpose of improvement, still there 
 remains sufficient to shew his indefatigable industry. His studies af- 
 ter the antique and the old masters are numerous ; and it does not 
 appear that he omitted to exercise his own invention. He has not, how- 
 ever, produced so many pictures while he was at Rome, as one might 
 reasonably have expected from his habits and application. I have 
 three heads which he painted there from models taken from the streets. 
 One is that of Baiocco, a most savage looking dwarf, well known to 
 the English who visited Rome at that day, and so called by them 
 from his begging for a small Roman coin of that name. Another, is 
 that of an Assassin, one of those vile wretches who were to be hired 
 by any body, to avenge injuries, which the law under that feeble 
 government could not reach. It has a handsome, but fierce looking 
 countenance ; the hair is black, that of the head short and curled, 
 and the beard fri/ded. it would have been a fine study for a Brutus. 
 The third is a very fine head of An old Jew. It is exquisitely painted 
 and with much delicacy of touch ; the aspect is mild, but penetrating 
 and dignified. Hie head is bald, and the locks and beard grey. He 
 painted another head from this model for the character of Moses, 
 
97 
 
 which was sold in an unfinished state at the auction of his pictures. 
 The head which I have is much superior. 
 
 There was at that time in Rome a young female of fine form, who 
 lent herself to the artists for hire as a naked model, and by these 
 means supported herself and her mother. Notwithstanding this spe- 
 cies of prostitution, it does not appear that her mind was actually 
 corrupt. Her mother always attended her, so that she was never 
 left alone ; and as much delicacy and decorum were observed as the 
 nature of the business would admit of. Had the slightest liberty been 
 attempted, it would have been repelled with indignation; so, at least, 
 it was generally understood. Mr. Romney availed himself of so 
 favourable an opportunity for studying the nude, and made many 
 sketches from her ; he thus acquired an accurate knowledge of the 
 female form in all its diversities of attitude. I believe he painted only 
 one picture from her : it represents a naked female in the character 
 of a Wood-Nymph, reposing at full length upon the ground, with her 
 back turned towards the spectator. The fore part of her body is 
 raised and resting upon her right arm and elbow, and she is contem- 
 plating the reflection of her beautiful face in a brook. She lies upon 
 drapery of white linen and a pink robe, which gives a rich warmth 
 and harmony of colouring to the whole. The back ground is a wild 
 forest. This picture came into the possession of Mr. Keate, the sur- 
 geon, for an inadequate price. Mr. Romney began a half-length 
 portrait of Mrs. Keate, and received payment for it, forty guineas ; 
 but the portrait, from some cause or other, was never finished, and 
 Mr. Keate requested this picture in its stead. The Wood-Nymph 
 was, in my estimation, cheap at two hundred guineas ; but it was 
 not the fashion in those days to buy fancy-pictures. 
 
 o 
 
98 
 
 There was another picture which he painted while at Rome, and 
 which 1 ought to mention, though, I must confess, I regard it rather 
 as an object of censure than of praise. It is very natural, however, 
 to he misled bv the influence of great examples : both Michael An- 
 gelo and Raffaelle have represented the Almighty with the figure and 
 character of human nature ; a practice too much countenanced by the 
 corruptions and idolatry of the Roman catholic religion ; for surely it 
 is a profanation of the grossest character, to exhibit by a degrading 
 representation, the invisible Creator of all things ; whose very name 
 should not be uttered without feelings of veneration and awe, and 
 who, when Moses and Elijah were summoned to his presence on 
 mount Horeb, only revealed himself to them by the effects of his 
 power — by storms, by earthquakes, and by flames of fire. There is 
 indeed another passage in Scripture, that would seem to favour the 
 idea that the Almighty had a circumscribed form : “ and the Ancient 
 of days did sit, whose garment was white as snow, and the hair of 
 his head like pure wool." — Daniel, vii. 9. Ancient of days does not 
 denote old age, for that implies decay, but that He existed from the 
 beginning. This language is altogether figurative, and does not 
 convey any precise idea of form ; how indeed could a Being’, who says ; 
 “ the heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool" — be cir- 
 cumscribed by the contour of a man’s form ? Yet, undoubtedly, the 
 prophets, in order to accommodate their language to the capacity oi 
 the human understanding, are sometimes obliged to make use of 
 terms, when speaking 1 of the Deify, which, to a certain degree, are 
 expressive of form. The following passage, however, is, I think, 
 conclusive as to the impropriety, (not to say impiety,) of representing 
 the Almighty under any form whatever, even though not intended for 
 the purpose of idolatry. — “ l ake ye therefore good heed unto your- 
 selves (for ye saw no manner of similitude on the day that the Lord 
 
99 
 
 spake unto you in Horeb, out of the midst of the fire) lest ye corrupt 
 yourselves, and make you a graven image, the similitude of any 
 figure.” — The picture 1 have alluded to, was Providence brooding 
 over chaos. It represented a venerable old man borne upon the 
 clouds. He fronted the spectator and had his arms outspread ; his 
 hair was parted on his forehead, and his beard flowing. There was 
 a mild expression in his countenance, and he seemed rapt in the per- 
 formance of some great operation. The lower part of the picture ex- 
 hibited a chaotic mass of obscurity and darkness. This picture 
 remained in his gallery in Cavendish square for some years. It was 
 placed over the copy of the Transfiguration, opposite to the entrance. 
 At the time of Lord George Gordon’s riots in 1780, it excited great 
 alarm in the mind of Mr. Romney, lest it should attract the notice 
 of the rioters and be regarded as an object of Roman catholic idolatry, 
 and thus lead to the destruction of his house. 1 1 was therefore imme- 
 diately removed to a back apartment. When 1 made out the cata- 
 logue for the sale of his pictures, I called it Jupiter Pluvius ; 
 borrowing the idea from a representation of that Pagan divinity on 
 the column of Marcus Aurelius, to which the figure in Mr. Romney’s 
 picture bore some resemblance. 
 
 He studied the works of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle with ardent 
 devotion, and made himself familiar with the excellencies of each. 
 I n the first he sought grandeur and dignity ; in the latter, grace and 
 expression. All those grand figures of sibyls and prophets, which de- 
 corate the Cappella Sistina, he has transferred to his sketch books ; 
 as w ell as many other designs by that gigantic master. But from 
 the works of Raffaelle, w ho combined more of the excellencies of the 
 art than any other painter of modern times, he made several copies 
 in oil. He had scaffolds erected in the Vatican, which became to 
 
100 
 
 him, as it were, a school ; anti thus he was enabled to copy those 
 parts which pleased him the most, or which, from some peculiarity, 
 were best suited to afford him instruction. I have a copy in oil of 
 the powerfully expressive head of Heliodorus, and of two other heads 
 from the same picture. The head and part of the body of the female 
 carrying* the buckets of water, in the Incendio di Bor go ; and also, 
 a pencil drawing* of the whole figure. As a single figure, I look upon 
 this as one of the finest product ions of the pencil ; it is truly Homeric*. 
 It is said that Raffaele derived his greatness of manner from studying 
 the works of Michael Angelo ; be it so ; but lie improved upon his 
 model by adding grace to grandeur. Michael Angelo should be stu- 
 died rather than imitated ; the fie r to of his overcharged style should 
 be tempered by other milder characteristics of art. It was thus that 
 Raffaelle did when he saw his works in the Capella Sis tin a ; which 
 is sufficiently manifest even from the figure of which I am now speak- 
 ing. The grandeur of outline — the dignity and grace in the attitude 
 and action — the expression in a side face of a mind under strong- 
 emotion — and the undulating flow of the drapery as agitated by the 
 wind, and so clinging to the body, as to display the beauty of form 
 with almost as much precision as is seen in a Grecian statue — render 
 it one of the noblest subjects in all art for the study of a young 
 painter. From the same picture I have also a small copy in oil and 
 umber on a cartoon, of the man bearing his infirm and aged father 
 upon his shoulders from the danger of the conflagration; and accom- 
 panied by a youth, supposed to be his son. This idea, as every one 
 knows, was borrowed from Virgil ; who gives a similar representation 
 of ./Eneas currying* his father Anchises, and conducting his son As- 
 canius from the flames of Troy. Different persons have thought that 
 
 * “ Homerum secutus, cui validissima quteque forma etiam m feeminis placet. — Quintilian 
 Ins. de Orat.” Lib. 12, c. 10 
 
101 
 
 they perceived a similarity between the poet and the painter*, which 
 probably may have been first suggested by this imitation. J believe, 
 
 * Raffaelle himself seems to have had some consciousness of this resemblance, as he has pla- 
 ced his ovrn figure near that of Virgil in his Mount Parnassus. 
 
 “I could not help frequently observing the many similar traces in the character of Raffaelle, 
 and in that of Virgil. Both were blessed with great natural talents; in the improvement and per- 
 fection of which, both proceeded on the same sure and solid foundation, of the greatest industry. 
 Both aimed at the utmost correctness, as well as spirit in their works. Both gave their atten- 
 tion with all possible diligence to the study of the works of the great men who had preceded 
 them.’’ — Wilcocks’ Roman Conversations. 
 
 “Th’ enchanting painter rules the willing heart, 
 
 And shines the finished Virgil of his art.” 
 
 Hayley’s Epistle on Painting. 
 
 « Les ouvrages de Raphael frappent peu au premier coup d’oeil : ll imite si bien la nature, 
 que l’on n’en est d’abord pas plus etonne que si l’on voyoit l’objet meme, lequel ne causeroit 
 point de surprise ; mais une expression extraordinaire, un coloris plus fort, une attitude bizarre, 
 d’un Peintre moins bon, nous saisit du premier coup d’oeil, parce qu’on n’a pas coutume de 
 la voir ailleurs. On peut comparer Raphael a Virgile, et les Peintres de Venise, avec leurs at- 
 titudes forcees, a Lucain. Virgile plus naturel frappe d’abord moins, pour frapper ensuite 
 plus ; Lucain frappe d’abord plus, pour flapper ensuit moins.” — Montesquieu Essai sur le Gout. 
 
 These observations of Montesquieu respecting the first impressions on seeing the pictures of 
 Ratlaelle, confirm, and receive confirmation from those of Reynolds. 
 
 “ It has frequently happened, as I was informed by the keeper of the Vatican, that many of 
 those whom he had conducted through the various apartments of that edifice, when about to 
 be dismissed, have asked for the works of Raffaelle, and would not believe that they had already 
 passed through the rooms where they are preserved ; so little impression had those performances 
 made on them. One of the first painters now in France told me, that this circumstance hap- 
 pened to himself, though he now looks on Ratlaelle with that vtneration, which he deserves 
 from all painters and lovers of art. I remember very well my own disappointment when I 
 first visited the Vatican ; but on confessing my feelings to a brother student, of whose ingenu- 
 ousness I had a high opinion, he acknowledged that the works of Raffaelle had the same effect 
 on him * * *. This was a great relief to my mind * * *. In a short time .a new taste and 
 new perceptions began to dawn upon me, and I was convinced that I had originally formed a 
 false opinion of the perfection of art, and that this great painter was well entitled to the high 
 rank which he holds in the estimation of the world.”— Observations by Reynolds in Malone’s 
 account of him. 
 
102 
 
 however, that it will be admitted, that the purity, grace, and dignity, 
 which embellish the language of the one, will be found no less con- 
 spicuous in the style of the other ; and that the truth of character and 
 powerful expression, which distinguish the figures of the painter, will 
 likewise be found to characterize the personages of the poet ; and as 
 Virgil sought simplicity and grandeur in Hesiod and Homer, so 
 Raffaelle acquired these qualities by studying the works of those dis- 
 tinguished Florentine painters, Cimabue, Masaccio, Leonardo da 
 Vinci, and Michael Angelo. 
 
 Mr. Romney also painted in oil colours, a copy of the head of 
 Sappho from the Mount Parnassus ; and another of that group of 
 figures in The school of Athens, which represents Archimedes ex- 
 plaining a diagram to his youthful pupils. The value of this copy* 
 is enhanced by its containing the portrait of Brarnante the architect, 
 hi the person of Archimedes. 
 
 But the work which cost him the greatest labour, and was the last 
 and most important of his studies, was a copy of the Transfiguration, 
 upon a scale of magnitude equal to the original. It was painted in 
 oil and umber upon single sheets of paper, which he afterwards uni- 
 ted upon one large canvass. The whole formed a most accurate and 
 spirited copy of that last work, and master-piece of Raffaelle ; the 
 finest picture, perhaps, in the world ; in which all the excellencies of 
 that great master were combined, and which alone was a sufficient 
 school to form a young painter. It was not literally a copy of the 
 whole picture, but of the lower, and most attractive part ; which re- 
 presents a youth tormented with an evil spirit, surrounded by a group 
 of sympathizing and terrified spectators ; partly consisting of the dis- 
 
 w This picture was purchased by Henry Ainslie M.D. when sold in the auction. 
 
103 
 
 ciples of Christ, and partly of the relations and friends, male and 
 female, of the demoniac. To accomplish this work he had a scaf- 
 fold erected in the church di San Pietro in Montorio, where this pic- 
 ture was the altar-piece. And while he was employed in this labori- 
 ous undertaking, the monks, at their stated periods of worship, used 
 to come and prostrate themselves at the altar immediately under him, 
 without interrupting him in any respect, or being themselves inter- 
 rupted. If any place, from association of ideas, was capable of in- 
 spiring enthusiasm and of giving energy to the exertions of an artist, 
 surely it was this. Here the religio loci must have had a most pow- 
 erful influence on the mind. In the presence of this noble picture, 
 on the very spot where the sad remains of its illustrious author had 
 Sain in solemn funeral pomp*, surrounded by all the dignity and ta- 
 lents of that splendid and enlightened age — an age, in which genius 
 was honoured and extolled almost to veneration — it was impossible 
 that Mr. Romney, with his warm and enthusiastic spirit, should not 
 have felt these inspiring impressions while he was painting there. — 
 But what was the recompence of his labours ? He was offered one 
 hundred guineas for the copy on its arrival in England, by the then 
 Duke of Richmond ; but he, conscious of the labour and expense which 
 it had cost him, and sensible of its merits, unfortunately declined the 
 offer. Little did he foresee the ignominious fate that befel it. Can 
 it be believed that this copy sold for only six guineas at the auction 
 of his pictures ! ! ! 
 
 When the pictures of Sir James Thornhill were sold after his death, 
 his copies of the cartoons of Raffaelle were sold for only two hundred 
 
 The chefs d’oeuvre of art cause a peculiarly solemn impression in the temple where the 
 remains of the artist are consigned to repose.” — Germany, by Baroness Stael Holstein, end 
 .of vol. 2 , 
 
104 
 
 pounds; a price (says Walpole) we ought injustice to suppose was 
 owing to the few bidders who had spaces in their houses large enough 
 to receive them. Yet how much better were they sold than Mr. 
 Romney’s copy of the Transfiguration ! A picture whose size was 
 not liable to the same objection, and which was in fact almost uni- 
 que ; there being only two other copies in this kingdom, one in 
 Dulwich chapel, said to be by Guilio Romano, and the other at 
 Winnstay, by Parry. The original was also, at that time, in the 
 Napoleon Museum at Paris, and inaccessible to Rritish subjects. 
 Indeed, the whole of Mr. Romney’s pictures, with the exception of 
 two or three, sold ill at that sale. The best bidders were among 
 the artists. Sir John Leicester only excepted, who showed his judg- 
 ment and taste in buying that exquisite picture of fancy, Titania 
 Pack and the Changeling ; for which, though in an unfinished state, 
 he gave one hundred guineas. The sudden dissolution of parliament, 
 which took place the preceding day, had, no doubt, a very disadvan- 
 tageous effect ; but the postponement of the sale by Christie after it 
 had been advertised, was still more injurious : to these two causes, 
 therefore, I would willingly attribute the want of bidders for the copy 
 of the Transfiguration. Even the Royal Academy should not have 
 lost so favourable an opportunity of purchasing such a work ; but, 
 perhaps, they might have thought that any thing from the pencil of 
 Mr. Romney would have been misplaced in their Academy : if, how- 
 ever, they had considered him as hostile to their establishment, (which 
 he never was,) they might still have remembered the old adage : — 
 fas est ah haste doceri. 
 
 My humble opinion is, that historical painting can never flourish 
 in this country so long as it chiefly depends upon individual patro- 
 nage ; or is made subservient to the views of commercial speculators. 
 
105 
 
 The minds of the higher orders are too much engrossed by party poli- 
 tics, to allow them leisure to promote and cultivate the arts of design. 
 Besides, it is a very uncommon union of qualities and circumstances, 
 which constitutes a true patron ; to munificence and a princely for- 
 tune should be superadded those rare mental endowments which dis- 
 tinguish a great painter — taste, genius, and enthusiasm. Such 
 characters, even under the most favourable circumstances of civil 
 society, seldom occur; they are rari nantes in gurgite vasto. To 
 obviate the want of private patrons, a permanent national establish- 
 ment should be formed ; the object of which should be, to honour and 
 reward the artists, and to improve the national taste. The British 
 Institution is good as far as it goes, and does great honour to those 
 by whom it was projected and established ; but its funds are not suf- 
 ficiently ample, to answer all the purposes of an enlarged and effec- 
 tual patronage. Ten or fifteen thousand pounds a year should be 
 set apart by government for the promotion of this grand object ; and 
 a committee, selected from the governors of the British Institution, 
 should be appointed for the disposal of this sum. An insulated build- 
 ing should be erected in a central part of the metropolis, capable of 
 extension when necessary, for the reception of pictures and statues. 
 It should be called the National Gallery*, to which the public 
 should have free access at stated times, ami in limited numbers, as at 
 the British Museum. It would not be necessary that this sum should 
 be expended each year, but sometimes more, and sometimes less, 
 according as there might happen to be pictures and statues produced, 
 entitled to such distinction ; especially in the exhibitions of the Royal 
 Academy, and of the British institution. By these means this great 
 national object might, perhaps, be attained ; and Britain become as 
 illustrious by her skill in arts, as she is now renowned for her feats in 
 
 * This was written long' before the establishment of the present National Gallery. 
 
 P 
 
106 
 
 arms; and thus transmit to posterity a name as glorious as that 
 which was acquired by Athens in the days of Pericles. After an ar- 
 tist had enriched the National Gallery with a certain number of pic- 
 tures or statues, thus purchased, he ought to be entitled to a pension 
 out of the fund : and if he should double that number, he might then 
 have the privilege of claiming the title of Knight ; for honour has a 
 more powerful influence upon great and noble minds than the lust of 
 lucre. Hitherto there has always been a backwardness on the part 
 of government to encourage the arts ; partly owing to a want of taste 
 and proper feeling in those who were in power, and partly from their 
 not having duly appreciated their national importance ; not reflecting, 
 that the excellence of some of our manufactures is owing in a great 
 measure to their connection with the arts of design ; and that every 
 valuable picture, painted in this country, is so much property added 
 to the stock of national wealth. 
 
 That Mr. Romney had occasionally varied his studies while at 
 Home, is evident from Ms drawing-books ; for in them are several 
 sketches of St. Peter’s church, of parts of the Colosseo, and of pictu- 
 resque scenery in the neighbourhood of that city. It may be inferred, 
 also, from the same authority, that he had extended his excursions 
 as far as Tivoli ; for he has left sketches of the Sibyl’s Temple, of the 
 Grotto of Neptune, and of the Cascatelli, near that picturesque 
 place. 
 
 Thus glided away his time in incessant, but varied study; and 
 there is every reason to believe that, while he was at Rome, he passed 
 some of the pleasantest hours of his life. Nothing occurred to dis- 
 turb their tranquil and quiet course, except one single momentary 
 circumstance; which, however, might have brought them to a fatal 
 
107 
 
 termination. It happened that he occupied apartments in the Je- 
 suit’s College* at the time when Ganganelli was taking measures for 
 the suppression of that obnoxious society. The college was in con- 
 sequence surrounded by a military guard, and all egress prohibited. 
 Mr. Romney, not understanding the Italian language, and living in 
 habits of sequestered study, was not aware of what was passing 
 around him : having, however, occasion one day to pass the gates, 
 he was cautioned by the sentinel not to proceed ; but not knowing 
 the purport of the words, and being absorbed in his own reflections, 
 he disregarded the warning, and still went on : when the guard in- 
 stantly levelled his musket. This powerful argument roused him from 
 his reverie, and he, with great presence of mind, said promptly — 
 Any less — this mystic word operated like a charm, and saved his life. 
 This event, when Mr. Romney became acquainted with all the cir- 
 cumstances of it, made a deep impression upon his mind, and he had 
 great pleasure afterwards in speaking of it. 
 
 A short time before he left the Roman capital, he received the 
 following letter from Mr. Cumberland. 
 
 Warwick Castle, 14th August, 1774. 
 
 “ .Dear Romney, 
 
 “ I hope this letter will reach you before you quit Rome, and con- 
 vey to you my grateful acknowledgments for your obliging favour, 
 which came to hand yesterday, and found mein this delightful castle, 
 where 1 have been some time on a visit to Lord Warwick with my 
 
 * “ I went to the Jesuite’s Colledge again, the front whereoff gives place to few for its archi- 
 tecture, most of its ornaments being of rich marble. It has within a noble portico and court 
 sustained by stately colums, as in the corridor over the portico, at the sides of which are the 
 scholes for the arts and sciences.” — Evelyn’s Diary, p. 190. 
 
108 
 
 wife, daughters, and eldest son. It gives me true satisfaction to hear 
 that you have passed your time in Italy so much to your wishes ; your 
 country is much interested in your success, and amongst your friends 
 no one more faithfully than I am. I have been very inquisitive from 
 every quarter where I thought I could approach you, and I have al- 
 ways heard what gratified my ambition in your behalf ; still I wanted 
 the confirmation of your own testimony, and this being had, leaves 
 me completely happy. The art has stirred very little since you left 
 us ; this year exhibited no advances in taste and execution. Barry 
 fell into the false sublime and became ridiculous; West was in the 
 wane, and our friend Sir Joshua, though very voluminous, had no- 
 thing supremely capital, coarse and flaring in his style and colours, 
 he seems tired with nature and is bringing in vagaries to hide his 
 want of improvement. — How unlike to the god-like simplicity of the 
 ancients before your eyes, and their copyists the modern antiques, 
 the heroes of the sixteenth century. Dance painted a single figure 
 of Orpheus — mulcentem tigres — and did well in point of truth, but was 
 vulgar; he earned the palm, however from his contemporaries : the pic- 
 ture now bangs in the music room of Sir Watkins Williams, companion- 
 ing a St. Coecilia of Sir Joshua. Bely upon me when I assure you, 
 you are not forgot, on the contrary your fame rises, as the expectations 
 of your country increase, and we shall demand great things from you 
 on your return. The designs of M. Angelo with the colouring of 
 I'itian will have been your study, and the fruits of it will build you 
 both fame and fortune. When I received your letter I was in the 
 midst of your friends, and am charged by Lord Warwick to assure 
 you of his cordial wishes. Mr. Greville is now writing to you and 
 inclosing a letter to Sir W. Hamilton to prepare you a reception 
 equal to your merits when you arrive at Naples. What shall I say 
 to you in return for the Head of Sappho ? Did you paint without 
 
109 
 
 genius, stiil the friendship with which you bestow would recommend 
 your works to me ; and did you give without friendship, still your 
 genius would stamp a value on the present; when both unite I am 
 highly flattered and delighted with this fresh testimony of your re- 
 membrance of me, and shall keep it with those performances of yours 
 which are for ever in my eye and increase in value every day. I have 
 got back my wife’s picture with the boy out of Ireland, and prize it in- 
 estimably. — 1 must now say a few words to you from the amiable lord 
 of this mansion ; he has a few wishes about pictures, which perhaps 
 you could gratify. There is a magnificent room in this castle, where 
 a picture of consideration is wanting according to the proportion of 
 sixty three inches by forty three wide, or near upon, (not to be nice 
 to a few inches;) the subject liistorical, where more than one figure 
 is employed. Lord Warwick knows too much of Italy and pictures, 
 not to know how difficult it is to fall in with such a purchase upon 
 reasonable terms ; for he does not mean to dedicate a great sum to 
 the purpose, but rather wishes to have a picture of effect and genius, 
 which, perhaps may cross you in your travels out of the beat of our 
 collectors, and not exceeding one hundred pounds sterling. — lie 
 likewise intreats the favour of you, if it falls in your way, to buy him 
 a few portraits for a collection lie is making ; they must he heads 
 only (which we call three-quarters) of spirit and effect; Titian or 
 Guido, if they can be met with in compass of moderation ; marked 
 characters, or dignified persons; and your kind compliance with this 
 request will gratify him most highly. — He likewise says, that if you 
 bring home any copies, which you mean to dispose of, or if it falls in 
 the way of your studies to make any copies from capital pictures, 
 which you will part from at your return, he begs he may be consi- 
 dered in the first place ; and any drafts you may make on him in St. 
 James’s square for purchases he will duly honour. — Having said this 
 
110 
 
 I am to assure you of his sincere regards and good wishes, and how 
 g-lad he shall be to see you here at your return. Accept my best 
 love and that of my good woman and all my young ones, who, I bless 
 God, are perfectly well. — Bear me in remembrance and write again 
 in answer to this. 
 
 “ I am ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 “Richd. Cumberland.” 
 
 After having resided at Rome nearly a year and seven months in 
 the diligent cultivation of his art, he left that consecrated sanctuary 
 of the Muses on the 10th of January, 1775, on his return to his na~ 
 tive country. At Florence he continued three weeks, where he 
 received the two following letters from his fellow students, Humphry 
 and Peters. 
 
 “ Dear Romney. 
 
 “ I am flattering myself that this morning you got safe to Florence 
 after an agreeable journey. 
 
 “ I made it my business to see Mr. Peters, in order to get him to 
 furnish you with a letter or two for Parma, which he complied with 
 most cheerfully, and I have accordingly forwarded them to you : they 
 are wrote in English, and of course are addressed to people who 
 speak a little of our own language, which will afford you no small 
 consolation I believe. — I have been twice to call upon Mr. Jenkins 
 lor the name of the vessel yoiu* things are to go in to England ; but 
 have not had the good fortune to find him. I shall not fail to repeat 
 my visits till I see him, and you shall hear from me immediately after, 
 and may expect my letter to Mr. Strange at Venice, at the same 
 time. — Since you left us, though but a few days, the aspect of politics 
 
Ill 
 
 in Rome is considerably changed. The king of Spain has caused to 
 
 be declared to the C Is in C ve that he will not suffer any 
 
 one of them to be elected Pope that will not promise to publish a bull 
 to confirm the act of the late Pope in dissolving the Jesuits; and he 
 says, besides, that he insists upon every cardinal subscribing an in- 
 strument to confirm it. This has occasioned such confusion at the 
 V atican that one or two of the cardinals are come out, and many 
 others are expected ; and it is now to the last degree doubtful when 
 another Pope will be elected, if ever, because it is said many of the 
 cardinals are determined to perish rather than submit to such an en- 
 croachment ; and it is not impossible, or even improbable, but we 
 may shortly see Rome surrounded by a Neapolitan army. This in 
 the mean time, is likely to become such an impediment to my studies 
 (the Capella Sistina being shut) that I have thoughts of passing some 
 months in Venice much sooner than f intended, but of this nothing 
 certain can be said at present, 
 
 “ I shall be very glad to hear you are arrived safe in Florence, 
 and that you find every thing there agreeable to your wishes. 
 
 “ Being very sincerely 
 “ Yours &c., 
 
 “O. Humphry.” 
 
 Rome, January 13th, 1775. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “1 have given to Mr. Humphry two letters for Parma which he 
 intends inclosing to you, and I hope you will find by their means 
 two agreeable friends and acquaintance. 1 should be very happy on 
 any occasion of doing you what little acceptable services may chance 
 to be in my power, should ever such happen. 1 beg you will with 
 
112 
 
 the utmost freedom command me. — When you go to Bologna if you 
 mean to stay there above two days, I would recommend you to a 
 private house, where I and other English artists have lodged former- 
 ly ; you eat with the family and may probably meet some merchants 
 of our country at the same place ; I have therefore on the other side, 
 given you a line to the mistress of the house, as also one to Mr. Ed- 
 wards at Venice, whom you will find a valuable acquaintance. When 
 you go to Parma it will be necessary to stay a day or two at the inn 
 till you look about you ; I was lodged for that time at the Gamhara, 
 either that or the Pavone are good houses ; but should you choose 
 to live in a private house, my hair-dresser (whom I recommend to 
 you) will find you one, and him you will find by sending any one to 
 the Marchese Venturi’s, to know where the man lives who dresses 
 the Signore Marchese; this is the man, but I forget his name. And 
 for dining, the best place to go to, is, chez Monsieur Raymond trai- 
 teur Francois, where you will find at a certain hour, a good ordinary 
 and the best company ; the dinner is very reasonable, not exceeding 
 two or three Pauls ; and be so good to make my compliments to him. 
 
 “Pray my compliments to Mrs. Vanini — I shall certainly see you 
 at Parma the end of April, and always, 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your very humble and obedient Servant, 
 
 “Wm. Peters.’ 
 
 Borne, Saturday Night. 
 
 f rom Florence he went to Bologna, where he stopped nearly a 
 fortnight, and while there was offered the presidentship of the Aca- 
 demy of painting in the Instituto, which honour, however, he thought 
 proper to decline for many weighty and obvious reasons. From 
 
113 
 
 Bologna lie pursued his journey by Ferrara to Venice, where he ar- 
 rived on the 25th of February. The particulars of this journey, his 
 feelings, and observations arc detailed by himself in the three follow- 
 ing letters, written while he was at Venice; and which I have tran- 
 scribed from a hasty scribble in one of his sketch books. The first is 
 addressed to the Hon. Charles Greville, in answer to one which he 
 had received at Florence; the second to Mr. Carter, a fellow student 
 at Rome ; and the third to his friend Humphry. 
 
 Venice, February 29th, 1775. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “When I received your very obliging letter of the 10th of October, 
 I was, as I thought, within a few days of leaving Rome ; but as 
 more than three months have elapsed, I will now trouble you with an 
 account of what I have been doing. When I began to consider the 
 uncertainty of getting those pictures to copy in Florence, and the 
 danger to which my health would be exposed in passing through 
 Italy in the depth of winter ; but especially, when I began to reflect 
 upon your advice, hinted in a former letter, not to hurry myself too 
 fast through my studies, a consideration which had more weight with 
 me than any other ; I determined to continue in Rome some time 
 longer. In order, therefore, to employ myself in the most advanta- 
 geous manner, 1 got leave to make a cartoon from the Transfiguration 
 of Raphael : 1 made it in umber and oil of the same size. 1 think I 
 was particularly happy in my determination, as it is a work where 
 all the excellencies of that master are united : there is a perfection in 
 the finishing hardly to he met with, and it is designed with more 
 gusto than any other of his oil paintings. In the second week of 
 January I left Rome, and on my arrival at Florence, had the plea- 
 sure of receiving the two letters you honoured me with, addressed to 
 
 Q 
 
114 
 
 Lord Cowper, and Sir Horace Mann. They shewed great readiness 
 to serve me, hut all to no purpose. The pictures I wished to copy, 
 are not suffered to be taken down on any account; and, on exami- 
 ning them several times with a ladder, I did not think it worth while 
 to erect scaffolds. — I met with great entertainment from the old mas- 
 ters, in particular, Cimabue and Masaccio ; I admired the great sim- 
 plicity and purity of the former, and the strength of character and 
 expression of the latter. 1 was surprised to find several of their ideas 
 familiar to me, till I recollected having seen the same thoughts in 
 M. Angelo and Raphael, only managed with more science. 
 
 “ I made inquiry if the Marquis Nicolini had parted with any of 
 his collection, or if there was any likelihood of his doing so, and was 
 informed from good authority that it was quite improbable. The re- 
 port that he had parted with some was raised by a landscape-painter, 
 who had purchased two pictures of the steward of the family, and 
 reported that he had had them from the Marquis, in order to raise 
 their value. 
 
 “ 1 am exceedingly concerned that 1 have not hitherto had it in my 
 power to make any purchase for Lord Warwick, or to procure such 
 pieces as you wish to have. The Magdalene of Correggio rather 
 sank in my opinion on a second view, and the owner had raised his 
 price to two hundred sequins. — At Florence Mr. Zoffani has the first 
 intelligence if there be any thing of value to be sold ; sometime ago 
 he made a purchase of four or five very good pictures, which are now 
 in Lord Cowper’s collection. I hoped for better success in my way 
 to Venice, as I had the good fortune to travel in company with Mr. 
 Udney, the consul there. He knew all the good collections on that 
 road, and took me to see many that were to be disposed of at Bologna 
 
115 
 
 and Ferrara. We did not, however, meet with any that I thought 
 worth bidding a price for, except a few which a friend of his had, 
 and which he had engaged some time ago. There was a Head of a 
 Country Girl with a basket of fruit, and a small Madonna and 
 Child, both by Titian ; a Lot and his two Daughters, half length, by 
 Guercino ; and a copy of the St. Margaret* of the convent of that 
 name in Bologna, by Parmigiano : a duplicate also is in the Colonna 
 palace at Home. I mention these because they are the only tilings 
 which 1 have seen that were to be disposed of, out of the dealers’ 
 hands, and for which 1 would pay duty. 
 
 “ 1 found the works of the Caracci in the condition in w hich youhave 
 described them, very much damaged, or so very dark that they can 
 scarcely be seen ; however, I think there is a style of painting in 
 them very much to be admired, particularly in Lodovico ; his thoughts 
 are more elevated than those of any other of that school, (though fre- 
 quently borrow ed from Titian or Correggio ;) but he is less correct 
 than his scholars; Isis forms are large and few, the tone of his colour- 
 ing is grave and low ; and there is a gloom in the effect of his pic- 
 tures well adapted to the pathetic and terrible.--! admire the St. 
 Agnes of Dominichino, and the Peter and Paul of Guido ; but nei- 
 ther so much as the St. Cecilia of Raphael, and the St. Margaret of 
 Parmigiano. 
 
 * The original was bought by the king of Poland for an immense sum. The Academician 
 Ascoso says that the Caracci ran mad after this picture. “ Si soddisfi pur pienamente l'inteii- 
 dimento pittorico nello piu compita tavola che mai pignesseil graziosissimo Parmigianino, e 
 alia quale andavano dietro pazzi i Carracci. Non si possono mai sperare piu bell’ arie di 
 teste, piu corrette inani, piu maestosi panni, di queiche qui vestono la Beata Virgine col Fig- 
 iiuolo, la Santa Margherita, il S. Girolamo, il S. Petronjo, e F Angelo, che tiene la Croce 
 della Santa, il di cui orribil Drago mette spavento.” 
 
116 
 
 “ I have been four days in Venice, and am at present almost lost 
 to every tiling- in this world hut Titian. I cannot acquaint you what 
 1 shall do, or how long- I shall stay ; but I think about a month, and 
 expect to be in London the first or second week in May. As I shall 
 pass through several towns in my way to Parma, where there are 
 good pictures, J hope fortune will throw some into my hands. 
 
 “ I am, Sir, 
 
 “ Your much obliged humble servant, 
 
 “Geo. Romney.” 
 
 “ P. S. — A letter will find me at Parma by directing it to be left 
 at the Post Office ; if you have an opportunity to write one, it will be 
 thankfully received.” 
 
 “ Dear Carter, 
 
 “ I am under great apprehensions lest you should be much displeas- 
 ed at my neglect in not writing to you, particularly, as I have writ- 
 ten to Mr. Humphry and Mr. Peters. If you will have a little pati- 
 ence I will tell you the reason ; hut in the first place will give you 
 some account of my feelings when I left Rome, and of my journey 
 afterwards, as I think you have more sympathy than the rest of my 
 fellow-students. Whether it was owing to the multitude of thoughts 
 which continually crowded on my mind for some weeks before 1 left 
 Rome, about the settling of plans, collecting various matters, both 
 mental and substantial, paying* of bills, Ac., — I say whether it was 
 owing to these, and a thousand hopes and fears which agitated my 
 mind; or to something else which I have not yet discovered, that had 
 benummed my feelings ; certain it is, that when I passed the Porta 
 del Popolo, crossed the Ponte Molle, and during the whole day fol- 
 lowing till I arrived at the Monte Rosi, I hardly felt regret. After 
 
a, good night’s rest, (the hurry of departing being over,) my affecti- 
 ons began to revive, and something hung about my heart that felt 
 like sorrow ; which continued to increase till 1 reached the summit of 
 Mount Viterbo. I arrived there about half an hour before the Vet- 
 turino, indeed I had hastened to do so, as well knowing it would he 
 the last time T should see Rome. 1 looked with an eager eye to dis- 
 cover that divine place. It was enveloped in a bright vapour, as if 
 the rays of Apollo shone there with greater lustre than at any other 
 spot upon this terrestrial globe. My mind visited every place, and 
 thought of every thing that had given it pleasure ; and I continued 
 some time in that state, with a thousand tender sensations* playing 
 about my heart, till 1 was almost lost in sorrow — think, 0 think, my 
 dear Carter, where you are, and do not let the sweets of that divine 
 place escape from you ; do not leave a stone unturned that is classi- 
 cal ; do not leave a form unsought out that is beautiful ; nor even a 
 line of the great Michael Angelo. — It was not till I had passed 
 thence, that I saw any thing that diverted my thoughts from Rome, 
 when I observed the aspect of the country quite changed ; and as 
 form and appearance affect m ^ I was led to suppose that the charac- 
 ter of a country might contribute a good deal towards forming the 
 style and taste of men of genius ; particularly so when the arts are in 
 
 * “ As we rolled under the arch of the Porta del Populo, and heard the gates close behind 
 us; as we passed the Ponte Milvio, and looked down on the Tiber flowing dimly beneath, 
 our regrets redoubled, and all the magnificence of Rome, now left behind ns for ever, presen- 
 ted itself once more to our recollection.” — Eustace’s Classical Tour, Vol. 2, p. 171. 
 
 “ And walking on while they were changing the horses, ascended the hill, took a last view 
 of Rome then glittering with the rays of the sun that played upon its palaces, towers and 
 domes, and displayed its whole extent in all its magnificence.” — P. 178. 
 
 “It is impossible to leave this city without emotion, so many claims has it to our attention ; 
 so many holds upon our best passions.” — P. 148. 
 
118 
 
 tlieir infancy, as the professors are led to seek principles in nature 
 when thejr have no examples in art from whence to derive them ; for 
 all principles were originally drawn from nature. And I was going- 
 on to observe, as I thought, that Michael Angelo must have noticed 
 that the long swelling line* about Florence gave much grandeur &c., 
 — when I found I should be on a topic which would carry me far be- 
 yond the limits of this sheet of paper, and that I should not have 
 room to give you my apology, and tel! you what I have been doing. 
 On my arrival at Florence I met with letters to Lord Cowper and Sir 
 Horace Mann : they seemed very desirous to serve me, but it was 
 out of their power; the Grand Duke will not sutler the Venus to be 
 taken down, nor any picture in the Pitti palace ; alleging, that if he 
 softer any one he cannot refuse others, which he had done lately to 
 two or three who had applied through very great interest. In order 
 to recompence myself, I got a ladder and examined them very near 
 several times, and found more information than I expected. I was 
 very much entertained, and I believe employed my time to greater 
 advantage, in making sketches from the works of Cimabue, Masaccio, 
 Andrea del Sarto, and Michael Angelc ? At the end of three weeks 
 I left Florence in company with Air. kidney, and at Bologna was 
 very well pleased with the school of Caracci. I think their style of 
 painting grand, and that gravity of colour, and gloomy effect cer- 
 tainly well adapted to subjects of terror and pathos. 
 
 “ I stayed there near a fortnight, some part of which time I was 
 rather indisposed with a slow fever. I continued my journey with 
 Mr. Udney, and arrived safe and well at Venice about a week ago, 
 when it was high carnival. My extreme eagerness to see the works 
 of Titian prevented my writing to you sooner. 1 will defer giving 
 
 *' “ Girt hy her theatre of hills." — Childe Harold, canto 4th. 
 
119 
 
 you my opinion of him at present, as J am not quite settled in my 
 thoughts respecting him. S beg you will communicate what you 
 are doing, how the world goes, and what new things are come out. 
 f have only just room to tell you in short, that from what I have seen, 
 and what I have done, I have no reason to regret the disappointment 
 at Florence. As to my apology, you see I have no space for it at 
 present, I must, therefore, postpone it till another opportunity, rely- 
 ing upon your candour and clemency. 
 
 “Believe me, dear Carter, 
 
 “ Yours sincerely, 
 
 “Geo. Romney.” 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I am at length arrived at Venice safe and sound. I had the good 
 fortune to meet with Mr. Udney at Florence, and as we intended to 
 travel the same way, and happened to he ready at the same time, we 
 agreed to go together. We left Florence the morning after S had 
 the pleasure of receiving your second letter, and arrived at Bologna 
 the next day in the evening. My first business, as you may suppose, 
 was to look for the pictures which Sir Joshua has mentioned in his 
 Discourses. I found them nearly such as he has described them. 
 T he St. Francis among his friars, and many others by Lodovico Ca- 
 racci are so very dark, far from the eye, and in such bad lights, that 
 it was with difficulty I could make out many of the figures; some of 
 them were also much decayed ; however I think there is much to be 
 admired. There is a grandeur of character in the heads of his old 
 men, and a dignity in the style of his figures in general, equal to 
 most masters ; and I think, if he could be come at and seen in good 
 fights, some time might be spent to advantage in making studies. 
 
 1 also saw some clever things of Dominichino and Guercino, which 
 
120 
 
 raised my opinion of them. I think the great strength, breadth, and 
 hold manner of working, which are peculiar to that school, are ex- 
 ceedingly well adapted to some kinds of historical painting. I need 
 not say any thing of the St. Cecilia of Raphael. There is a St. Mar- 
 garet by Parmigiano, which I think a very extraordinary picture, 
 f met with very little in the Academy worth mentioning, except a 
 room where there are five or six very fine anatomical figures in dif- 
 ferent actions, taken of in coloured wax ; it is by much the finest 
 school for studying in that I have seen. Upon the whole, I cannot 
 think that there is any thing that will detain you a long time, ex- 
 cept you sit down to copy the St. Cecilia, or the St. Margaret of 
 Parmigiano. — Barry’s picture surpassed my expectations.” 
 
 “ 1 have been three weeks at Venice, and have seen most of the 
 works of Titian, Tintoret, and Paul Veronese. I am sorry to find 
 many of the first very dark, and much damaged ; some of them have 
 been extraordinary productions; hut as there are many of them and 
 parts of most in tolerable condition, there is enough to study from, 
 perhaps not of the sort you and I might wish for — 1 mean women 
 and children. — The Death of the Friar, and the St. Laurence have 
 been amazingly fine pictures in invention, composition, character, 
 expression, and colour. I have been hard at work some time past in 
 making studies from a picture of Titian in the Friary. It represents 
 a Madonna and Child, and St. Peter upon a flight of steps, and be- 
 low, a group of portraits ; it is in Titian’s best manner, and, as it 
 has been cleaned lately and is in good preservation, is in a favoura- 
 ble state to study from. Many of the heads are admirable in every 
 respect as portraits ; it hangs, however, in a much weaker light than 
 the Transfiguration, and, what is still more mortifying, I could only 
 work after mid-day, and was obliged to have every thing taken down 
 
1*21 
 
 and removed at night, which made it exceedingly inconvenient, 
 [here was one favourable circumstance, however, I could work as 
 near as J pleased. 1 am now making a copy of a St. John the bap- 
 tist by Titian, a middle aged figure standing, it is in good preserva- 
 tion and in a tolerable light ; it is very finely coloured, hut rather dirty. 
 There is also a very early picture by Titian in the school of the 
 Charete ; it is in good condition and advantageously placed for stu- 
 dying; it is one of the first things he painted after he came to Venice, 
 and of course not in his best manner; however, notwithstanding, 
 many parts of it are very well, and the manner of working is plainer 
 to he seen than in any other of his pictures which I have met with, 
 i mention these as being the only things I have yet seen that one can 
 sit down to study from ; his other works are either exceedingly dirty, 
 damaged, or placed out of reach; excepting Judith, in one of the 
 palaces, the only easel picture 1 have seen of value, though inferior to 
 some things in the Borghese ami C olonne palaces in Rome. However, 
 upon the whole, I am very glad 1 did not make any studies from 
 Bis works in Rome or Florence ; being thoroughly convinced that 
 a just idea of Titian can never be formed out of Venice. His 
 great works are of a much higher order, and of a very different 
 character from those in Rome. Even his damaged pictures, as lar 
 as examination goes, will be objects of study, having parts in good 
 condition. 
 
 “ Accept my best thanks for your third letter with one inclosed for 
 Mr. Strange, which 1 received a few days after I arrived here. 1 
 shall always consider myself under great obligation to Mr. Udney 
 for his kindness to me upon the road, and when 1 was indisposed a 
 week at Bologna; also, after ! arrived at Venice, for his great civility 
 in inviting me to continue at his house, and in shewing the greatest 
 
 R 
 
readiness to procure me every thing- 1 wished to copy. — Having- every 
 thing I could desire, and discovering something of a misunderstand- 
 ing between him and Mr. Strange, I was prevented from delivering 
 your obliging letter. Mr. Strange, however, has the character of 
 being a very recluse man, so much so, that lie has not yet received 
 any of the foreign ministers, nor been out of his house since he came 
 to Venice : and the etiquette of this place is such, that no nobleman 
 will hold any intercourse with, or even speak to a foreign minister 
 under such circumstances ; his connexions, therefore, hitherto must 
 be very limited. On the contrary, Mr. Udney is generally known, 
 and much so among the nobility ; and most of the pictures in churches 
 belong to noble families. That in the Friary, from which I have 
 been studying, is an instance ; after his sending, I had liberty to 
 copy what part I pleased, but not to interrupt the service of the 
 church. However, if you have the least desire ! should present your 
 letter, 1 will wait upon Mr. Strange immediately after 1 hear from 
 you. I mention these circumstances, partly as reasons for my not 
 having delivered your letter, and partly that you may have some idea 
 what steps to take when you come hither. I have endeavoured to 
 give you a detail of every thing I can recollect ; I shall be able to say 
 more before I leave this place. 
 
 “ I am glad you have received the letter you expected, and that the 
 Pope has been elected, since this letter may find you in Rome. 
 Pe assured I shall always feel great pleasure when I can render you 
 any service. 
 
 “ Believe me, dear Sir, 
 
 “Very gratefully, yours, &c. 
 
 “Geo. Romney.” 
 
123 
 
 During- his stay at Venice he became acquainted with Edward 
 Wortley Montague, the celebrated traveller, with whom he lived in 
 habits of frequent intercourse. The corresponding simplicity of their 
 modes of life and other peculiarities of character, had inspired them 
 with mutual esteem. 1 remember that Mr. Romney, soon after his 
 return from abroad, used sometimes to prepare his coffee according 
 to instructions he had received from Wortley Montague. — The re- 
 sult of this intimacy was a portrait of the latter ; painted by Mr. 
 Romney with all that felicity of execution which might be expected 
 from genius, when inspired by the voice of friendship. Montague, 
 from his long residence in the east, had assimilated his habits to those 
 of the l in ks ; and consequently, while at Venice, constantly wore 
 the Turkish dress. This contributed to give a picturesque character 
 to the portrait, which was a half-length. Mr. Romney brought it 
 with him to England, and immediately sold it to the Earl of Warwick 
 for fifty guineas, with a stipulation that he should be allowed to take 
 a copy from it before it was sent to Warwick castle. The copy re- 
 mained in his gallery many years, and was at length sold (in 1 788) 
 to Mr. John Milns, of Wakefield, for forty guineas. From this copy 
 lie also painted another in crayons of the head, with a view to ascer- 
 tain how far he should be able to fix that fugitive manner of painting. 
 This was a subject that had sometimes engaged his thoughts; for 
 certainly if transparency and durability could be added to the other 
 characteristics of crayon-painting, a great object in art would be 
 gained. The experiment succeeded nearly to his full expectation ; 
 for the glazing was applied without disturbing the crayons, which 
 produced a clearness and brilliancy of colouring, hardly equalled in 
 the finest Venetian pictures. The process, however, was, I believe, 
 attended with so much difficulty, that he was not tempted to make 
 any more experiments ; or, at least, he had not sufficient leisure for 
 
124 
 
 such pursuits. Mr. Hayley erroneously calls this the original 
 picture, which, he says, was presented by Mr. Romney to a friend. 
 This friend was the mother of Thomas Hayley, who asked Mr. 
 Romney for it ; prompted, I have no doubt, by Mr. Hayley, 
 who availed himself of every means to get possession of such pictures 
 as he laid set his mind upon. This of Montague was what 1 should 
 call a domesticated picture ; it hung in Mr. Romney’s parlour at 
 Hampstead, as a part of the decorations of his house. When I re- 
 turned thither after a short absence, 1 perceived it missing ; and of 
 course inquired after it. Another little domestic picture had disap- 
 peared two or three years before, which, upon inquiry, I found 
 Thomas Hayley had asked for. It was one of the most level v 
 things 1 ever saw ; it was truly angelic. It represented a young 
 female 
 
 “ With looks communing with the skies. 
 
 Her rapt soul sitting in her eyes. ” 
 
 It was a sight sufficient to inspire the beholder with sentiments of 
 religious sympathy — it was a visible illustration of piety — a sermon 
 addressed to the eyes — it was equal to Guido in grace, and superior 
 in expression. — Her long flowing hair floating loosely over her shoul- 
 ders, her head encircled with a small blue fillet, and her soft blue 
 eyes, all contributed to sanctify the character. The model for this 
 Head was the daughter of Mr. Guy, the surgeon, of Chichester. It 
 was left by Mr. Hayley’s Will to one of his friends ; but most of the 
 pictures given to Mr. Hayley, were, after his decease, disgracefully 
 consigned to the hammer. 
 
 While at Venice, he received the following communication from 
 the Incorporated Society of Artists ; it was addressed to him at Rome, 
 and forwarded thence. 
 
125 
 
 London, February 10th, 1775. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “We tlie Committee of correspondence appointed by the Incorpo- 
 rated Society of Artists of Great Britain, with pleasure inform you 
 that the difficulties we have hitherto laboured under are happily at 
 an end ; that peace and harmony are perfectly restored among us. 
 
 “ That the Society have made good their first payment with their 
 creditors, at the close of the last exhibition ; and by the most mode- 
 rate estimate, find, they shall be able to discharge the whole arrears, 
 by rents, and profit of the three succeeding exhibitions, when we 
 shall make a saving of between six and seven hundred pounds per 
 annum, and have the satisfaction of being possessed of the best ex- 
 hibition room in the kingdom. 
 
 o 
 
 “ There is the greatest unanimity and spirit in the society, all the 
 principal members have voluntarily entered into an obligation for the 
 support of the Society’s credit ; binding themselves in the penalty of 
 one hundred pounds to exhibit to their utmost till the debts incurred 
 by the building are discharged. 
 
 “Notwithstanding the absence of many of our valuable exhibitors, 
 and the difficulties we then laboured under, we can with confidence 
 affirm, we made a very respectable shew. 
 
 “ The Society have entered into a resolution to purchase frames of 
 different sizes, to accommodate those exhibitors who are unprovided. 
 
 “ The exhibitions for the future will open on the 23d of April, and 
 we are desired to request you will forward to us as soon as possible 
 such of your works as you intend for exhibition. 
 
126 
 
 “ Among many regulations for securing the peace and concord of 
 the society, a law has passed that no president shall hold their Chair 
 for two successive years, but may be elected the third. 
 
 “ Peace being restored, our property secured, in the quiet posses- 
 sion of our estate, and having the addition of several valuable Fellows, 
 viz., Messrs. Brompton, Tate, Sykes, &c., and with the assistance 
 of your works, doubt not but we shall make a very capital exhibition, 
 and you may depend on the greatest care and attention to arrange 
 them to the best advantage. 
 
 “We are. Sir, 
 
 “ Your very humble servants, 
 
 “ Jno. Mortimer. 
 
 S. Gilpin. 
 
 John Dixon. 
 
 F. Wheatley. 
 
 John Smart. 
 
 Wm. Marlow.” 
 
 “Mr. Mortimer (at Miss Hurrel’s, Norfolk Street, Strand) is pre- 
 sident for this year ; Mr. Tassaert (George Street, Hanover Square) 
 Vice President; Mr Martin (Dean Street, Soho) Treasurer; Mr. 
 Isaac Taylor (Holborn) Secretary. — What Pictures you consign for 
 exhibition may be addressed to any of the Society’s officers, of whom 
 Mr. T assaert is best acquainted with the Custom-house business.” 
 
 ft is almost needless to inform the reader, that a few years before, 
 a part of the Incorporated Society had seceded in disgust, and found- 
 ed the Royal Academy ; which was at this time rising into celebrity 
 under the auspices of Sir Joshua Reynolds. The Incorporated Soci- 
 
127 
 
 ety, wishing* to sustain their rivalry with this new establishment, did 
 not overlook the advantage which they might have derived from such 
 a member as Mr. Romney, as a counterpoise to Sir Joshua; and 
 therefore, made this favourable representation of their circumstances, 
 in order to induce him to exhibit with them. He, however, not wish- 
 inn* to involve himself in their contentions, but rather to steer clear of 
 all parties, declined exhibiting altogether. 
 
 I do not exactly know how long he continued at Venice, but I 
 should think, at least two months : he then proceeded to Parma. 
 
 Having already studied the principles of simplicity, grandeur, and 
 expression in the works of the Roman and Florentine painters, and 
 afterwards in those of the Bolognese ; and having, also, now devoted 
 a portion of his valuable time to investigate the mechanical processes 
 of colouring as practised in the Venetian school, and especially in 
 the works of Titian ; not overlooking at the same time the other high 
 qualities of this distinguished painter ; nothing more remained, in or- 
 der to complete the circle of his studies, but to impress upon Ins mind 
 the graceful forms, and rosy beauties of Parmigiano and Correggio : 
 and surely nothing could be of greater benefit to a painter of women 
 and children, than to have a clear perception and feeling of that in- 
 expressible grace and sweetness, which distinguish and characterize 
 the airs and attitudes of the female figures and angels of these re- 
 spective masters ; and to acquire that morbidezza which is so remar- 
 kable in the colouring of Correggio. It does not, however, appear 
 that he had made either copies or studies from their works ; but it is 
 manifest from his own productions, that he had not been an idle or 
 inattentive observer of their characteristic excellencies. 
 
128 
 
 It was Iiis intention at a later period of liis life, to have painted a 
 large picture in the Correggiesque style; hut in consequence of the 
 hasty completion of the Shakspeare Gallery, and of some other cir- 
 cumstances connected with that undertaking, which damped his en- 
 thusiasm ; the idea was unfortunately laid aside. The choice of 
 subject was happy, and well suited to his refined and poetic imagi- 
 nation. And had the rapid and dashing Sketch which he has made, 
 been enlarged into a picture, and finished in his usual style of paint- 
 ing, it would have been one of the finest pictures in the world. No 
 fancy-subject could be more finely conceived, and in the execution 
 there is no doubt but it would have displayed all that playfulness and 
 witchery of character, and that fantastic grace, which his fine taste, 
 and exquisite feeling enabled him so well to communicate to his Fai- 
 ry-figures. It was taken from the latter part of the first Act of the 
 Tempest — which Play, The Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Mac- 
 beth, were peculiar favourites of his, and over which Ids imagination 
 frequently brooded with congenial enthusiasm and delight. 
 “Miranda — Beseech you Father! ” 
 
 “Prospero — Hence; hang not on my garments, Ac.” 
 Including also Ariel’s Song : 
 
 “ Come unto these yellow sands, Ac.” 
 
 On the left of the picture are placed Prospero and Miranda. The 
 former with his back rather turned to the spectator, and his face in 
 profile. His right hand is elevated above his head, and his left just 
 appears above his shoulder, which action of the hands evidently refers 
 to liis communication with Ariel. In his whole person there is an 
 almost supernatural dignity and grandeur : and in Ids countenance, 
 which is directed towards Ferdinand, is depicted a mild and placid 
 gravity, combined with an assumed austerity. Miranda, with her 
 breast and shoulders bare, hangs snnpliant on her father’s garments 
 
12 ?) 
 
 in the most bewitching- attitude; with all that souplesse gracieuse 
 which is more easily conceived than described. Her hair is loosely 
 braided round her head, and in its redundance, hangs floating in the 
 air. She gazes with admiration and tenderness on Ferdinand, who 
 is placed somewhat to the right from the centre of the picture. He 
 is seminude, by which his fine muscular form is seen to advantage, os 
 humerosque Deo similis ; and as he advances up the beach, is at that 
 moment arrested by the rebuke of Prospero. It was Mr. Romney’s 
 intention to have exerted all his powers, both in colour and design, 
 in the representation of this manly figure. To the right of Ferdinand 
 and in the clouds, is Ariel with his subordinate agents, controlling the 
 elements ; while below, the agitated billows seem shrinking from their 
 contact with the clouds. Beyond Ferdinand, and a little to the left, 
 is a group of visionary females, as fantastic as fairies, and as graceful 
 as angels, dancing upon the yellow sand, and seeming by their action, 
 to check the waves as they break against the shore. When Mr. Rom- 
 ney had well studied a subject, and was perfectly master of every 
 part of it, so that he saw it as distinctly with his mind’s eye, as if it 
 had been represented in a mirror ; he had a happy facility of rapidly 
 transferring it to the canvass while the impression was still strong on 
 his imagination, tie would make a sketch of this kind in oil colours, 
 upon a half-length canvass, in less than an hour ; in which the effect 
 of light and shade, the harmony of colouring, the composition of the 
 figures, and even the drawing and expression, to a certain degree, 
 would be given at once, as it were by magic, in the most bold and 
 dashing manner, if a sitter had disappointed him, he would some- 
 times take a waste canvass and accomplish one of these sketches 
 before the next came. Flow much it is to be regretted, that this 
 admirable design, on which so much thinking had been expended, 
 should never have been embodied into a picture by his masterly ban <1 ! 
 
 s 
 
130 
 
 It is remarkable that he never made finished drawings for his pic- 
 tures ; he only designed the general idea and effect, and executed 
 the minor parts when lie painted the picture. He sometimes even 
 painted directly from invention, but never with a copy placed before 
 him. West, on the contrary, used to finish his drawings minutely ; 
 and his great pictures, being copied from them, lost much of their 
 original freedom by the process of imitation ; and thus acquired the 
 appearance of magnified drawings : such at least, I remember, were 
 the large scriptural subjects painted for St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. 
 
 Mr. Romney did not prolong his stay at Panna beyond the short 
 limit of two or three weeks ; after which, lie directed Ids course 
 homewards with all convenient speed. At Turin, while he was in 
 treaty with a vetturino to convey him to Lyons, he had the offer of a 
 seat in a calash along with an Italian fencing-master and his wife, 
 on the condition that he should pay a third of the expense. The 
 terms were apparently so advantageous that he made no hesitation in 
 accepting them. The Italian bail formerly practised in Paris ; but 
 having visited his friends at his native place, and there formed a ma- 
 trimonial connexion with a beautiful young woman, lie was now 
 again repairing to that gav city to resume his professional avocations, 
 taking with him his spouse and portables; and to facilitate his jour- 
 ney, had bought a calash and two good horses. Mr. Romney, how- 
 ever, soon found that the conveyance was not so agreeable as he had 
 been led to expect ; for, besides other causes of annoyance, he was 
 much incommoded by their superabundant luggage, especially in 
 crossing the Alps. The fencing-master was a stout, fierce, bluff 
 looking man, and treated his wife with much harshness. They quar- 
 reled on the way, and he taxed her with infidelity. She sang 
 remarkably well, was amusing, and frequently entertained Mr. 
 
131 
 
 Romney with her songs ; but, at length, became so mercenary that 
 she would not sing unless he made her presents of chocolate. In 
 descending the hills, the horses used to hurry down with such acce- 
 lerated motion, as sometimes to make Mr. Romney apprehensive of 
 serious consequences : upon one occasion especially, when peril 
 seemed more obvious, he had the prudence and good fortune (which 
 latter is generally the effect of the former) to dismount : the horses, 
 urged by the pressure of the carriage, were soon in rapid movement, 
 and, at last, the calash with its contents, was completely overturned. 
 
 S he Italian and his wife, more fortunate than prudent, though stun- 
 ned and braised by the accident, had no limbs broken. When Mr. 
 Romney came up, he found him still lying on the ground, with an 
 expression upon his naturally ferocious countenance, so piteous and 
 woe-begone, that the union of opposite and almost inconsistent feel- 
 ings, gave such a ludicrous and burlesque character to Ids face, that 
 the artist could not resist the temptation of transferring it to his 
 sketch book, while some country people were employed in refitting 
 the vehicle, and replacing the luggage. As Mr. Romney’s supply o! 
 cash was barely sufficient for his journey, he began to be afraid lest 
 this disaster might be attended with greater expense than would com- 
 port with his limited means : the injury, however, was soon repaired, 
 and they again proceeded on their way. At the inns upon the road, 
 through defect ol accommodations, they were often obliged to sleep 
 in a double-bedded room; and Signore Italiano, rising early, fre- 
 quently left his Cara Sposa in bed, unmindful of the indelicate situ- 
 ation in which Mr. Romney was placed; which, however, did not 
 seem to occasion any embarrassment on the part of the lady : indeed 
 she was always very familiar and easy in her deportment, addressing 
 him upon all occasions as her earn Signore Anglese. When they 
 arrived at Lyons, Mr. Romney, having had sufficient experience of his 
 
132 
 
 fellow-travellers, did not feel himself inclined to enter into any new 
 agreement with them, although they had made overtures for that 
 purpose; he, therefore, hid them adeo, and pursued his journey alone 
 to Palis. On his arrival at that place, the contents of his purse were 
 nearly expended, a circumstance in itself sufficient to create uneasi- 
 ness ; but when we consider, moreover, that he was ignorant of the 
 French language, and without friends, we may then form a tolera- 
 ble idea of the nature of his reflections and feelings ; fortunately, 
 however, he met with Mr. Peirse, of Yorkshire, whom he had known 
 at Venice, who kindly accommodated him with money sufficient for 
 the rest of his journey. He did not arrive in London till the 1st of 
 duly, though his passport is dated, Versailles, the 22nd of June. 
 
 He immediately placed himself in Gray’s Inn ; but I do not know 
 of any pictures which he painted in the six months that intervened 
 between his arrival in England, and his establishment in Cavendish 
 Square : a few portraits of particular friends, some studies, and half- 
 finished fancy-pieces probably constituted the whole of his performan- 
 ces, as he must have been quite unsettled during that time. 
 
 It was in this interval, and not many weeks after his return from 
 abroad, that he received the following letter from Mr. Cumberland. 
 1 he proposal contained in it does not appear to have been accepted ; 
 most likely for the reason just mentioned. 
 
 T etworth, W ednesday. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 ‘ 1 returned home the day before yesterday from Warwick Castle, 
 where I had passed a few days with Lord Warwick, and in which 
 time I took an opportunity of talking over with him at leisure all 
 
133 
 
 that yon desired me relative to your disappointment in not executing 
 his commission, and your readiness to have gratified him in it, if you 
 had found any pieces of art worth bringing home. 
 
 “ We had frequent discourses about you (the more especially as 
 we were alone) and J had the happiness to find an elegant friend who 
 ■went equal lengths with me in giving testimony to your genius and 
 the hopes of your future fame, advanced by travel and experience. 
 Lord Warwick is possessed (as no doubt you know) of a magnificent 
 castle, and is disposing his furniture and pictures to the taste of the 
 building. He has collected some very respectable portraits, chiefly 
 of Vandyke, and has reserved a place in his principal apartment 
 lor a companion, where he wishes you to try your strength in the 
 same bow with the best masters of portrait painting ; but as he would 
 not fetter your fancy to any fixt subject, he leaves the object to your 
 own chusing and all circumstances about it, only it must be female, 
 as I believe it is to companion with Charles the first’s queen by Van- 
 dyke. It is his wish that you would work upon this picture at the 
 castle, and he proposes to give you possession of an entire tower, 
 where you wall have choice of light, a most delightful workshop, bed- 
 room, study, books, and closets for your tools, with ail peace and 
 content that solitude and serenity can give you. You will not doubt 
 this plan being adapted to your disposition when I tell you it was 
 the joint result of our councils, and we have laid the time as well as 
 scene when Lord Warwick will he entirely alone, and when I can 
 meet you, provided your business in town can spare you for a fort- 
 night in the month of October, in the beginning of the month. My 
 Lord and 1 propose going to Keswick for a short tour on the lOthof 
 October, so that if you can meet me at Warwick on the 8th, we can 
 leave you in possession of your tower, and at our return shall expect 
 
134 
 
 to find something- in forwardness. This is our project, and if it meets 
 your approbation and consent, let me know by letter and 1 will ap- 
 prise my friend of it, and unless a call of parliament absolutely pre- 
 vents our whole scheme, I think we shall have something capital from 
 you, as I persuade myself you will be ravished by the scene, notwith- 
 standing all you have so lately viewed. We take an artist with us 
 to Keswick, so that we shall have something to shew you on our 
 return. I have set my heart upon your approving this little plan of 
 my amiable friend’s, and am with true esteem, 
 
 44 My dear Sir, 
 
 44 Your sincere and faithful friend and servant, 
 
 “Richd. Cumberland.’’ 
 
 The house in Cavendish Square, recently occupied by the late 
 Francis Cotes, the crayon-painter, was still vacant. Its situation and 
 accommodations rendered it a most desirable residence for a portrait- 
 painter, and it did not escape the notice of Mr. Romney and his friends; 
 but the risk of renting so large and expensive a house, with a preca- 
 rious income, presented itself to his imagination in so formidable a 
 fight, that his friends by every argument, and much entreaty, could 
 hardly prevail upon him to engage it ; and no wonder, for a man of 
 a less timid and cautious disposition, under the same circumstances, 
 might with great reason have hesitated at so serious a speculation. 
 His case was not that of a painter in full practice removing from one 
 habitation to another ; he was beginning, as it were, denovo, without 
 the certainty of a single sitter : and had he continued for two or three 
 months without employment, or had he been disabled by sickness for 
 so long a time, his ruin was inevitable. — This was in fact the grand 
 crisis of his fife, on which depended all that is dear to man in this 
 world— fame, fortune, and happiness. 
 
MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE, &c. 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE R O M N E Y. 
 
 PART THE THIRD 
 
 AT this interesting- period the third part of Mr. Romney’s profes- 
 sional life may properly be said to commence, comprising- an interval 
 of about twenty years, in which all his principal pictures were 
 painted. He took possession of his new abode at Christmas, and 
 was ready to enter upon business with the new year (177(> :) he soon, 
 however, began to perceive that the apprehensions which he had en- 
 tertained were not without foundation ; for some weeks did certainly 
 elapse before he met with any employment, and ruin was already 
 beginning to stare him in the face, when, at length, the Duke of 
 Richmond, not forgetful of the encouragement he had formerly given 
 him, came to sit for his portrait. The picture was a three-quarters, 
 and represented his Grace cm profile, reading. It was universally 
 admired, and he w as in consequence commissioned to paint several 
 copies lor the Duke’s particular friends. He painted, also, for his 
 Grace, the portraits of Admiral Keppel, Mr. Burke, the Honourable 
 
136 
 
 Mrs. Darner, Lord George Lennox, Lord John Cavendish, &c., all 
 of the same size. 
 
 T he fruit of Mr. Cumberland’s recent tour to the Lakes in company 
 with the Earl of Warwick, was an Ode to the sun, which he published 
 this year and dedicated to Mr. Romney. This was a well timed act 
 of friendship, and does honour both to his heart and pen. As he has 
 not republished the dedication in his own Memoirs, though certainly 
 entitled to such distinction ; I have taken the liberty to place it in 
 the Appendix of this work, as being likely to afford entertainment to 
 the reader of taste. 
 
 Mr. Orde (afterwards Lord Bolton) was a friend of Mr. Romney’s, 
 and frequently visited him about this time : he was an elegant scho- 
 lar and a man of taste ; and among his other accomplishments, was 
 an able and emphatic reader. He used frequently to read to Mr. 
 Romney such passages in the poets as he thought would afford good 
 subjects for pictures. This gentleman, influenced by that grateful 
 feeling and pious regard, which every liberal minded man must en- 
 tertain for the place of his education, had intended to have presented 
 to the Society of King’s College, Cambridge, of which he himself had 
 recently been a fellow, an Altar-piece for their admirable chapel, a 
 structure in every part perfect except in the decorations of the Altar, 
 which seemed to require some picture of a solemn but splendid ef- 
 fect : he was, however, unfortunately, anticipated by tbe Earl of Car- 
 lisle, who gave to the College an old picture, said to have been 
 painted by Dan. da Volterra; which, although possessing considera- 
 ble merit, is of too cold a hue for the solemn gloom of that beautiful 
 chapel. The idea which Mr. Orde had suggested, was a Mater 
 Dolorosa or what the Italians call Maria alia Croce. The picture 
 
137 
 
 was in a state of great forwardness, but in consequence of this dis- 
 appointment, it was never afterwards touched ; and Mr. Romney 
 lost both his hundred guineas and his time, which latter was to him 
 at that period far the greater loss of the two. 
 
 In the beginning of the summer of this year (1770) lie was seized 
 with a severe disorder which had nearly proved fatal. Garrick had 
 promised to sit to him for his portrait; a circumstance, however, 
 which never took place, and which was, perhaps, prevented by this 
 illness ; but I think more likely by Garrick’s attachment to Reynolds. 
 On the 10th of June, when that great actor made his final appear- 
 ance upon the stage, Mr. Romney, along with the multitude, was 
 attracted to the doors of Drury Lane theatre; partly, like others, 
 by simple curiosity ; but more especially with a view to avail himself 
 of that opportunity, in order to study w ith greater advantage the 
 features of his intended sitter. His endeavours to train an entrance 
 
 o 
 
 were, how ever, ineffectual, and he consoled himself for the disappoint- 
 ment by repairing to the other theatre. Unluckily, while he w as 
 standing in the crowd, a slight shower chanced to fall, not such 
 as to induce him to return home ; but sufficient to communicate 
 so much dampness to his dress, as to become afterwards the cause 
 of his catching cold when heated in the theatre. Mr. Cumber- 
 land happening to call just at the time, and finding him in a most 
 dangerous state, and under the defective advice of an apothecary, 
 immediately sent for Sir Richard Jebb, w ho, as soon as he saw 7 his 
 patient, instantly ordered him to drink a bottle of Madeira. He af- 
 terwards told Mr. Cumberland, that Mr. Romney’s life could not 
 have been saved, if advice had been delayed half an hour longer. 
 This was another well timed act of Mr. Cumberland’s friendship, 
 w hich ought to be recorded ; and w hich I have still greater pleasure 
 
 T 
 
138 
 
 in mentioning- here, because it marks the commencement of Mr. 
 Romney’s friendship with that eminent physician and excellent man. 
 After this, Sir Richard always attended him in every illness, and 
 with that liberality which constantly distinguished his character, would 
 never on any account accept a fee. The only return, I believe, that 
 he could ever be prevailed upon to accept, was a small tinted draw- 
 ing- of the head of their common friend, the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, 
 copied from the larg-e picture painted for Earl Gower. Sir Richard 
 himself did indeed afterwards sit, but it was only to gratify Mr. 
 Romney, who was anxious to possess the portrait of a friend whom 
 he esteemed so highly. It was a large half-length, but never finished. 
 The head, however, was perfect, admirably painted, and in every 
 respect corresponding- to the genius of the painter, and to the merit 
 of the physician. It afterwards became the property of Mr. Jebb, of 
 Ireland, Sir Richard’s nephew. 
 
 The following year (1777) Mr. Paine Knight, who ranked so high 
 as a scholar and a man of taste, in consequence of some conversation 
 he had had with Mr. Romney when they met in Italy, favoured him 
 with a communication from Rome, containing a learned and meta- 
 physical dissertation on the passions as connected with painting. 
 
 In 1778 Mr. Ilayley published his Epistle on Painting, and ad- 
 dressed it to Mr. Romney. 1 1 was a popular performance at the time, 
 and being anonymous, was attributed to Mr. Cumberland. It is 
 certainly an elegant composition, and the most polished of all Mr. 
 Hayley’s works. Though Mr. Romney was now in full practice, the 
 acknowledged rival of Sir Joshua, and needed no adventitious aid to 
 increase his celebrity; yet a compliment so flattering did not fail to 
 inspire him with warm feelings of gratitude towards the author, which 
 
139 
 
 were soon afterwards ripened into friendship, — friendship ardent and 
 confidential on his part. The influence, however, that this connexion 
 had upon Mr. Romney’s subsequent life, was in many respects injurious. 
 It is an invidious task to disturb the repose of the dead, and 1 have 
 no inclination to animadvert upon the character of Mr. Hayley fur- 
 ther than as it comes in contact with the life of Mr. Romney. He, 
 however, by writing- his own Memoirs, and leaving them for posthu- 
 mous publication, may in truth he said to have perpetrated that un- 
 holy deed himself, and to have set an example for the justification of 
 others. Mr. Hayley’s friendship was grounded on selfishness, and 
 the means, by which he maintained it was flattery. By this ait he 
 acquired a great ascendency over the mind of Mr. Romney, and 
 knew w ell how to avail himself of it for selfish purposes. He w as able, 
 also, by a canting kind of hypocrisy, to confound the distinctions 
 between vice and virtue, and to give a colouring to conduct, that 
 might, and probably did mislead Mr. Romney on some occasions. 
 He likewise drew him too much from general society, and almost 
 monopolized him himself, and thus narrow ed the circle of his acquain- 
 tance and friends. By having intimated an intention of w riting Mr. 
 Romney’s life, he made him extremely afraid of doing any thing that 
 might give offence. There was a wrong-headedness in the general 
 conduct of Mr. Hayley, arising from the influence of powerful passi- 
 ons, that disqualified him for being a judicious and prudent adviser; 
 yet he w as always interfering in the affairs of Mr. Romney, and 
 volunteering his advice : and I have too much reason to believe, that 
 whatever errors the latter may have committed, they were mainlv 
 ow ing to the counsel, or instigation of Mr. Hayley. I w ill just men- 
 tion one instance, though certainly of comparatively little importance, 
 yet sufficient to illustrate my assertion. Mr. Hayley admits, that 
 when Meyer, the Royal Academician, so competent to form a just 
 
140 
 
 opinion on the subject, endeavoured to prevail on Mr. Romney to 
 exhibit, in order to be admitted a member of that body, he himself 
 used every argument to dissuade him from it : assigning as his mo- 
 tive the mental peculiarities of his friend. The covert reason, I have 
 no doubt was, that, as he himself was not favourably disposed towards 
 the Court, he did not wish Mr. Romney to become connected with it. 
 The ostensible motive, however, is certainly absurd ; for Mr. Romney’s 
 mental peculiarities, by which, I suppose, he means his nervous irri- 
 tability, and quick susceptibility of feeling, only became an infirmity 
 when his health was impaired by application and age : but, at any 
 time, his natural love of tranquillity, and dislike of all squabbles and 
 intrigues, would have guarded him from those disquietudes and vex- 
 ations, which Mr. Hayley pretends to have foreseen. Did any of such 
 consequences follow on his exhibiting five years before with the char- 
 tered Society in Spring Gardens ? Had he become a R. A. it did not 
 follow that he should have aspired to the President’s Chair : though 
 his high professional talents and powerful genius might have justified 
 him in entertaining such ambition ; yet, from what I know of the 
 character of his mind, I am sure he would have shunned any such 
 preeminence. He did not seek to gratify vain ambition, his sole ob- 
 ject was to excel in his art, and nothing could have arisen from the 
 circumstance of his being a R. A. that would in any respect have ruf- 
 fled or disturbed his feelings : — but, certainly, many important advan- 
 tages might have resulted from it. The royal patronage might have 
 been extended to him ; at least, his not exhibiting was assigned as a 
 reason why it was not. But the principal advantage would have been, 
 the making his best works familiar to the public, and the leaving a 
 record of their existence ; whereas most of them are now hid in ob- 
 scurity, or only seen by a small domestic circle ; and many, perhaps, 
 suffered to perish from not being duly appreciated. It would also 
 
141 
 
 have stimulated his exertion, and made him produce a greater num- 
 ber of excellent pictures. 
 
 At first it was my intention to have made a list of all the portraits 
 painted by Mr. Romney after liis return from Italy; but finding that 
 I could not be sufficiently accurate, I shall content myself with mention- 
 ing those pictures only, which were remarkable, either as containing 
 more than one figure, or for their superior merit, or on account of 
 the individuals represented : yet even of this description there must 
 have been several which have not come to my knowledge. 
 
 About this time, or soon after, he painted the following pictures. — 
 
 Mrs. Morris and her son. 
 
 Mrs. Charles Hawkins and children. 
 
 The Children of Earl Gower ; a large picture representing three 
 young ladies with a little boy dancing, and the oldest daughter play- 
 ing upon the tambourine. This is a masterly performance, and inferior 
 to none as a fine display of graceful portraits. 
 
 The Duchess of Gordon and her son the Marquis of Huntley. 
 
 The Countess of Albemarle and her son Lord Albemarle, with dogs. 
 
 Mr. Charteris’ (Lord Elcho’s) children, in one piece. 
 
 Mrs. Stables and two children. 
 
 The Beaumont Family, (of Whitby Beaumont, near Wakefield ;) a 
 large picture representing four brothers and a sister contemplating 
 the portrait of a deceased brother. 
 
 Mrs. Prescot and three children. 
 
 Master and Miss Boone. 
 
 Master and Miss Clavering, with dogs. In this picture Miss 
 Clavering is represented caressing a pup upon her bosom, and 
 Master Clavering holding two spaniels in a string ; one of which, 
 
142 
 
 with a strong- expression of maternal anxiety and impatience, is 
 leaping- up against the boy, who partly intervenes between it and its 
 offspring. This is a consummate performance ; it excels in all the 
 constituents of a good picture : the portraits have all that unaffected 
 grace and elegance which belong to well-bred children : the grouping 
 of them with the dogs is performed in so aide a manner as to shew a 
 perfect knowledge of composition ; the colouring, also, is beautiful 
 and natural ; and the distribution of light and shade is so skilfully 
 managed as to produce the most pleasing effect. The dogs are all 
 life and action. Would that a few such pictures as this (and there 
 are many by Mr. Romney) were placed in the British I institution, that 
 he might have a fair chance with Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 Two Miss Hills ; half whole length. 
 
 Master and Miss Cornw all, children of Sir George Cornw all, Bart, 
 
 Sir James Harris ; three-quarters, and three copies. 
 
 Lady Harris ; half-length. 
 
 Copy of Lady Harris, and Miss Hams in one picture; half-length. 
 
 Sir Hyde Parker, captain of the Phoenix Frigate; whole-length. 
 I should like much to see this picture placed in some public exhibition 
 by the side of Sir Joshua s celebrated portrait of Captain Keppel. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Compton, afterwards Lady George Cavendish. 
 
 An Indian Chief ; three-quarters. 
 
 Lady Craven ; two three-quarters : one for General Smith, the 
 other for Horace Walpole. 
 
 The large picture of Colonel Johnes and his friends, begun in 1770, 
 but not finished till some years after; in which Airs. J ohnes is repre- 
 sented as a fortune-teller. I apprehend that this picture was burnt 
 at the conflagration of Hafod. 
 
 Miss C. and Miss Hester Grenville, daughters of the Honourable 
 Mr. Grenville. 
 
143 
 
 Master Tempest, with a horse ; whole-length. 
 
 Master and Miss Conway. 
 
 Mrs. Blair and Child ; half-length. 
 
 Mrs. Hartley and Children. 
 
 Mrs. Chris] dgny and Children; oval. 
 
 Mrs. Corbet and Child ; whole-length. 
 
 Lord Stanley and Lady Charlotte. 
 
 Mrs. Bracebridge and Child; whole-length: recumbent. 
 
 One of the earliest pictures Mr. Romney painted after his re- 
 turn from Italy, was that of Cupid and Psyche ; most probably 
 before he was established in Cavendish Square. The figures were 
 much smaller than the natural size, entirely nude, and painted with 
 great tenderness and delicacy. It hail been missing for many years, 
 and was only found a short time before he left Cavendish Square, 
 among a heap of unfinished pictures ; and then given to Mr. Long, 
 the surgeon, according to a former agreement. This gentleman, 
 being an amateur, and priding himself on his skill in handling a 
 pencil, had the presumption afterwards to place a piece of drapery 
 where none was required; not from any delicacy of his own certainly, 
 but probably to please another. 1 mention this circumstance here, 
 in order that, if ever the picture should come before the public, this 
 drapery may not be attributed to Mr. Romney. 
 
 About this time he painted the Head of a Sibyl on a three-quarter’s 
 canvass. She was represented en profile, with spiral ringlets. He 
 used to lend it to copy, and upon one occasion, it was never returned. 
 
 The following extract from a copy of verses, written by Mr. Hay- 
 ley in reference to the portrait of Lady Warwick, painted about 
 this time, will not, perhaps be improperly inserted here. 
 
144 
 
 Venus to Lady Warwick. 
 
 “ Sweet model of my chaster power ! 
 Simplicity and grace thy dower ! 
 
 Behold ! thy finish’d portrait stand 
 The masterpiece of Romney’s hand ! 
 Whom I with pleasure taught to trace 
 The sweetness of that lovely face, 
 
 Whose smile is so beyond divine 
 ’Tis flattering me to call it mine ! 
 
 ’Twas I, and Romney owns as much, 
 
 Who guided every finer touch, 
 
 Directing still with secret hints. 
 
 The form, the character, the tints ; 
 
 ’Twas I, among his pencils plac’d 
 One with superior virtue grac’d, 
 
 Made of soft down from Cupid’s feather. 
 Which all the Graces tied together. 
 
 ’Twas I, upon his canvass spread 
 The bloom of my celestial red, 
 
 And fearing time the tint might tarnish, 
 Glaz’d it with that immortal varnish. 
 Which 1 so sacred still have kept, 
 
 That tho’ the Graces pray’d and wept, 
 They could not tempt me to reveal it, 
 
 Nor lor their favourite Reynold’s steal it.” 
 
 t he first time I saw Mr. Romney after his return from Italy, was 
 in January, 1777, when I found him painting in the evening by lamp- 
 light, lie was then engaged upon the subject of The Accusation of 
 
845 
 
 Susannah by the two Elders, which lie painted in chiaro ’scuro. 
 He had a shade before the lamp to obstruct the direct light, but that 
 which was reflected from the picture must still have been very injuri- 
 ous to his eyes. This picture was never finished, owing probably to 
 the difficulty and disagreeableness of painting by an artificial light. 
 The figures were upon a small scale and numerous. After he had 
 relinquished this picture, he began to make designs in chalks, some- 
 times upon a scale as large as life ; and innumerable studies for his 
 portfolio : — thus he was generally occupied till bed time. During 
 spring lie often worked thirteen hours a day, commencing at eight, 
 or earlier, and, except when engaged out, which was not frequently, 
 prolonging his application till eleven at night. 
 
 He mostly painted a gentleman’s three-quarters portrait in three or 
 four sittings ; especially, if no hands were introduced. The first sit- 
 ting was three quarters of an hour, the other two about an hour and 
 a half each ; and if another was required, it did not exceed three 
 quarters of an hour. During the spring months lie frequently had 
 five sitters a day, and occasionally even six. The only time he had 
 for painting fancy-subjects, was in the intervals between the sitters, 
 or when they disappointed him ; and having- a canvass at hand, he 
 often regarded such a disappointment, as a school-boy would a holi- 
 day. The finishing, however, of his portraits required those inter- 
 vals ; but, being a less pleasing- occupation, it was too frequently 
 postponed. This in some measure accounts both for his unfi- 
 nished portraits, and his fancy-pieces, which, being put aside in 
 haste, were either forgotten, or mislaid. There were, however, 
 other cooperating causes which contributed to increase the number 
 of both. 
 
 u 
 
146 
 
 When lie painted Tragedy and Comedy nursing Shakspeare-— 
 The infant Shakspeare attended by the Passions — and Alope — in 
 all which a mule infant was introduced, he had for a model a fine 
 child belonging- to a soldier of the Guards. It happened unfortunately 
 that it died while several other similar pictures were in progress ; 
 which, on that account, were never finished : viz .—A Group of 
 Children in a Boat drifted out to Sea, the nurse on the beach in 
 distress. The infantine playfulness of the children, in quihus spec- 
 tatur securitas et setatis sirnplicitas, contrasted with the peril of 
 their situation and the eager anxiety of the nurse, rendered this 
 composition interesting : and, as it was capable of the 1 ugliest de- 
 gree of sweet colouring, by the harmonious combination of the 
 azure tints of the sky and sea with the tender carnations of the chil- 
 dren ; I have no doubt hut Mr. Romney would have made it a picture 
 of uncommon beauty, and fit to rival any similar work by Titian or 
 Albano — had not the untimely death of this child put an end to his 
 endeavours. This Design was bought in Mr. Romney’s sale by Mr. 
 Hoppner, the painter. 
 
 He had a servant bov with a fine countenance, whom he had be- 
 gun to employ as a model for a picture, representing A Shepherd 
 Boy asleep matched by his Dog at the approach of a thunder-storm. 
 This was one of those natural subjects, in which Gainsborough so 
 much excelled : and from the promise that this picture gave in so 
 early a stage, I am confident that had it been finished, it would 
 have ranked with the best works of that master, or with those of 
 Murillo ; but unluckily, the lad having been guilty of some miscon- 
 duct, was hastily dismissed, and the picture was never afterwards 
 touched. 
 
147 
 
 Another picture of the same class, representing- A young Girl 
 sorrowing over a Fawn just killed by Lightning, though in a state 
 of great forwardness, was left unfinished for want of a Fawn to paint 
 after. There was a beautiful expression of tenderness and feeling in 
 the face and action of this girl, that made her uncommonly interesting; 
 and left an impression of regret on the mind of the spectator, that so 
 trivial a circumstance should have prevented its completion. This 
 picture was given to Mr. Hayley. 
 
 Another picture of a similar character, which represented Two 
 young Girls in great distress, in consequence of a She-Goat having 
 overturned their milk-pail in its impatience to approach its Kid in 
 their possession, — was in like manner left incomplete for want of a 
 shaggy she-goat. Nothing could surpass the truth of expression in 
 these two children, who, though their countenances were clouded 
 with vexation, still retained the fascinating characteristics of beauty. 
 This picture was bought in Mr. Romney’s sale by the late Mr. Walsh 
 Porter. 
 
 The picture of Na ture u n veiling herself to Shakspeare, to which 
 M iss Helen Maria Williams alludes in the following- verses, remained 
 unfinished, and perished in the wreck of his works at Hampstead. 
 
 “ And Romney’s graceful pencil flow, 
 
 That nature’s look benign pourtrays, 
 
 When to her infant Shakspeare’s gaze 
 S he partial nymph “unveil’d her awful face*,” 
 
 And hade “his colours clear ’’ her features trace.” 
 
 Hie idea, however, was carried further in The infant Shakspeare 
 attended by the Passions. 
 
 * Gray’s Progress of Poesy, whence Mr. Romney originally took the idea. 
 
148 
 
 I could enumerate many other unfinished fancy-pieces in ail 
 stages of progress, which, from divers impeding- causes, were suffered 
 to accumulate in every corner of the house : no picture, however, 
 was ever set aside from any difficulty in the art itself; it was always 
 occasioned by some extraneous circumstance which prevented has 
 progress at tlie time. I could also mention several other causes which 
 contributed to produce those vast heaps of unfinished portraits that 
 obstructed the passage to his gallery. The chief were the poverty or 
 meanness of the parties to whom the pictures belonged ; which might, 
 however, have been obviated had Mr. Romney enforced the first pay- 
 ment : several finished pictures were likewise abandoned for the 
 same reasons. There w 7 as one full-length, finished except the 
 background, which I cannot forbear to mention here on account 
 of its superior excellence. It stood for about tw enty years in his 
 gallery or passages, and was at length sold in the sale of his pictures 
 for about the price of the canvass. — It was the portrait of Lord Amelins 
 Beauclerk, when a midshipman. I have known ladies’ portraits 
 amounting to the value of a thousand guineas, remain unfinished for 
 many months for want of a model with fine hands and amis. Some 
 portraits were abandoned in consequence of crim. con. ; hut more 
 frequently a less flagrant vice led to the same result: it was no un- 
 common circumstance, that a chore mnie having- been brought to sit 
 for her portrait, both she and the picture were deserted before the 
 latter was finished ; and Mr. Romney, not only lost Ms labour, but 
 what was of far more importance to him — his most valuable time. In 
 cases of this kind 1 should recommend to painters, to insist upon full 
 payment at the first sitting ; unless indeed the extraordinary beauty 
 of the female should stamp a value upon the picture equal to the 
 sitting price. 
 
149 
 
 Of the unproductive waste of Mr.. Romney 's time and labour, 
 I shall mention only two other remarkable instances. The first 
 claims especial notice, both as it records the destruction of a very fine 
 picture, which may be regarded as a public loss; and, also, as it 
 mav operate as a warning- to future painters. He painted a half- 
 length portrait of Isabella, Duchess of Rutland, for the Duchess of 
 Beaufort. She was represented sitting upon the ground, with her 
 countenance elevated, and looking upwards. There was much dig- 
 nity and grace in the expression and attitude, and it was a perfect 
 lik eness of her when she was in the meridian of her beauty. Her 
 dress was black silk. The picture graced his gallery many years. 
 Some eight or ten years afterwards, her Grace called and requested 
 that Mr. Romney would repaint the face, and make it like her as she 
 was at that time. She sat once, but came no more — and the picture 
 was spoiled. Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, sat to him three 
 times, after long intervals ; and each time he commenced a new pic- 
 ture, but none proceeded beyond the first sitting. Her Grace, I 
 believe, was in earnest, but the avocations of fashion prevented her 
 attendance. The last time she sat was in April, 1791, for a kit-cat 
 portrait : at the same time, also, Lady Elizabeth Forster sat for her 
 portrait of the same size. The latter was paid for by Mr. Crawfurd 
 and sent to him, and ! should suppose will now he an ornament of 
 Devonshire House. 1 am the more particular in mentioning these 
 circumstances, because it is possible that this beautiful picture may be 
 attributed to Reynolds. 
 
 It appears by the following extract from a letter of Mr. Romney’s 
 addressed to his brother in \ 793, that the great influx of new sitters, and 
 his own declining- health, were, also, among the causes which latterly 
 contributed to augment the number of unfinished portraits. 
 
150 
 
 “ My health is not at all constant — my nerves give way, and I 
 have no time to go in quest of pleasure to prevent a decline of health. 
 My hands are full and 1 shall he forced to refuse new faces at last, 
 to be enabled to finish the numbers I have in an unfinished state. 
 I shall regret the necessity of forbearing to take new faces. — There 
 is a delight in the novelty greater than in the profit gained by send- 
 ing them home finished ; but it must be done.” 
 
 No artist could be more liberal and generous than he in the exer- 
 cise of his profession. Had he been made to understand that it 
 would give pleasure to a friend to have his portrait painted, he would 
 have taken the first favourable opportunity to gratify his wishes ; and 
 would have exerted himself with more zeal than if he had been painting 
 for mere money. He seems, indeed, upon all occasions connected 
 with his profession, to have regarded lucre as a secondary object. 
 His prices were always too low, and it was oidy with reluctance that 
 he could at any time be prevailed upon by his friends to raise them 
 higher ; yet had he done so in a greater degree and painted fewer 
 portraits, it would not only have added to his reputation, but increased 
 his profits also. 
 
 In 1786 he painted portraits to the amount in value of three thou- 
 sand five hundred and four guineas, when his price was only twenty 
 guineas for a three-quarters. This excess of employment induced 
 him to raise his price to twenty five guineas, but had lie raised it to 
 thirty, it would not have occasioned any diminution of sitters. Im- 
 mediately on his return from Italy, he commenced with fifteen gui- 
 neas for a three-quarters, but soon raised it to eighteen, which he 
 continued till 1781. From the beginning of which year to January, 
 1787, he had twenty ; from this to October, 1789, twenty five; and 
 
151 
 
 from 1789 to 1793 his price was thirty guineas, when he advanced 
 it to thirty five guineas. The price of a half-length was double that 
 of a three-quarters, and a whole-length double that of a half-length, 
 and the intermediate sizes charged accordingly. 
 
 His conduct with respect to the Shakspeare scheme is another 
 proof of his disinterestedness as far as regards emolument. Indeed, 
 his enthusiasm in favour of that undertaking was at one time so 
 great, that he would have painted gratis rather than that it should 
 not have taken place. In fact, the idea of it originated from himself 
 individually : he had often ruminated upon it in his solitary hours ; 
 for he had always regarded Shakspeare as an author abounding in 
 those picturesque conceptions and representations which may be so 
 easily transferred to the canvass by an imaginative painter. But at 
 a dinner given by Mr. Josiah Boydell, at Westend, in 1787, when 
 Shakspeare became the topic of conversation, (induced probably by the 
 circumstance of Mr. Romney’s being at that time engaged in paint- 
 ing The Tempest, in which Mr. Hayley had sat as the model for 
 Prospero,) — be with his usual ardour and enthusiasm, then gave ut- 
 terance to his conceptions, and suggested the plan of a National 
 Gallery of pictures painted from that great dramatist, which would 
 he both honourable to the country, and to the poet, and contribute 
 essentially to the advancement of historical painting. The idea be- 
 ing in unison with the feelings of the company, was received with 
 rapture. The party consisted of several distinguished individuals ; 
 viz. Messrs. West, Hayley, Alderman Boydell, Romney, Hoole the 
 translator of Ariosto, Paul Sandby, Daniel Braithwaite, George 
 Nicol, and the Host. Mr. Nicol by since claiming the merit 
 ot having been the first to propose this scheme, has been 
 guilty of a misrepresentation. He might, however, have pleaded 
 
152 
 
 a secondary claim ; for, being* sufficiently alive to tlie interests 
 of his own profession, but devoid of all feeling for the art of 
 painting, he proposed as an improvement, that it should be accom- 
 panied with a splendid edition of the plays, decorated with prints 
 from the pictures ; which corresponding also with the views of the 
 Boydells as print-sellers, was in like maimer approved of by the party, 
 f was not in town at the time, but heard the subject frequently mention- 
 ed afterwards. I met the same party at a subsequent dinner at West- 
 end, where several of the principal historical painters were present. 
 I remember sitting between Messrs. West all and Farrington. Sir 
 Joshua was not yet conciliated. He, knowing the origin of the under- 
 taking, was reluctant and shy ; but being strongly pressed, he yielded 
 at length ; not, however, without taking especial care to secure his 
 own terms, tie had a thousand guineas for Macbeth, live hundred 
 pounds of which were paid down on the nail before he had touched 
 a brush. West had a thousand for King* Lear, and the choice of his 
 engraver, which was a great point : whereas Mr. Romney only asked 
 six hundred for The Tempest, and liberally gave the Boydells after- 
 wards, The infant Skakspeare attended by the Passions . Me was 
 not even paid this sum till many years after. By withdrawing his 
 labour from portraiture to the performance of this picture (The t em- 
 pest) he lost more than two thousand guineas. Not to mention the 
 waste of much valuable time and labour expended in preparing other 
 pictures, which were rendered frustrate by the hasty completion of the 
 Gallery. His enthusiasm, however, soon began to cool when he disco- 
 vered that the Boydells were making a commercial speculation of it, 
 which was in fact the cause of its failure. 
 
 As I am upon the subject, I might as well make my observations 
 here respecting the picture of The Tempest, although it is anticipating 
 
153 
 
 circumstances of subsequent occurrence. Before a Sliakspeare 
 Gallery was ever thought of, except by bimself (as I have already 
 mentioned) Mr. Romney bad begun a picture representing Prospero, 
 Miranda, and Caliban ; and in the background, a shipwreck. I have 
 the original sketch now in my possession, and it is in every respect 
 satisfactory as a composition ; but after the scheme had been embra- 
 ced by the Boydells, some officious individual suggested to Mr. 
 Romney that this picture would not be regarded by the critics as an 
 historical composition, as it consisted of only three figures not suffi- 
 ciently combined. The consequence was, as might have been 
 expected from a man of bis diffident mind, that the canvass was 
 diminished on the right so as to exclude Caliban, and enlarged on 
 the left so as to allow the shipwreck to be advanced to the foreground. 
 By this alteration he endeavoured to unite two principal actions, 
 which were essentially distinct, though referring to one another — an 
 anomaly in composition, which nothing could justify but the supposed 
 supernatural agency of Prospero. The result was, that what he had 
 intended to have effected with a little additional labour, proved to be 
 a source of endless toil — a struggle with impossibilities ; and he could 
 have painted three historical pic lures on any other subjects, in less 
 time, and with less effort. It, however, contains in an eminent de- 
 gree, all the other great essentials of an historical picture — spirited 
 action, correct delineation, character, and expression. It is also rich 
 in colouring, without being overcharged with gums and varnishes : 
 and the general effect is imposing and grand. A far greater irre- 
 gularity has been committed by Raffaelle in his incomparable pic- 
 ture of the Transfiguration ; in which two principal actions are 
 brought together, which have no relation to each other except a 
 supposed coincidence of time. 
 
 x 
 
154 
 
 Of the pictures in preparation for the Gallery, there were some 
 which he had studied much, and was ready to transfer to the can- 
 vass : viz. — The Banquet, and The Cavern Scene, in Macbeth; 
 and the subject from the first act of the Tempest, which has already 
 been described in another part of these Memoirs. Others he had 
 actually begun to paint : viz. — Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page, from the 
 Merry Wives of Windsor, in which the heads were finished. He had 
 made great progress, also, in another, representing Margery Tour- 
 dain and Bolinghroke conjuring up the Fiend ; but in this he was 
 anticipated by Opie. The last two were destroyed along with many 
 others by being placed in open situations for want of room, and ex- 
 posed to the vicissitudes of the weather during the winter after he 
 went to reside at Hampstead. Also, Lady Hamilton in the cha- 
 racter of the Maid, of Orleans, intended as a companion to the 
 Cassandra. This was bought at the sale of his pictures by Mr. 
 Stewardson, the artist. But when he perceived that it was the inten- 
 tion of the Boydells to employ the older and established masters no 
 more than was sufficient to give an impulse to the undertaking, and 
 to complete it by the works of young artists for low prices : — that 
 extraordinary haste was used to bring it to a conclusion, so that, instead 
 of having some attractive novelties every year to keep alive the public 
 interest, the whole display was made nearly at once ; — and that, in 
 consequence, indifference on the part of the public was already be- 
 ginning to shew itself — he directed his attention to other objects, 
 regretting that disinterestedness and liberality were qualities little 
 appreciated among dealers and speculators. 
 
 When Mr. Romney returned from Italy, his talents, both natural 
 and acquired, were of the first order for poetic painting ; but circum- 
 stanced as he was, being then in his forty second year, and without 
 
155 
 
 a shilling, it became necessary in the first place, to provide for his sub- 
 sistence, which could only be done by the means of portrait-painting; 
 and the nobler object of his studies was reluctantly postponed to a 
 future day. Mr. Fuseli has ill-naturedly said in his edition of Pilkin- 
 ton’s Dictionary of Painters, that “ Mr. Romney was made for the 
 times, and the times for him.” The first part of this assertion is so 
 far true, that he was able to accommodate himself to the spirit and 
 fashion of the times, by painting portraits of the highest merit, which 
 Mr. Fuseli could not do. Rut the times were not certainly made for 
 him ; because his forte was heroic, and imaginative painting, which 
 if he had pursued, he might have painted in a prison. In his endea- 
 vours, however, to secure an independence as soon as possible in or- 
 der that he might devote himself without restraint to the higher pursuits 
 of his profession ; he, unfortunately, destroyed his health by his in- 
 temperance of study ; and thus prevented the object he had in view, 
 bv the very means through which he had intended to have promoted 
 it — for when the period arrived in which all those great works which 
 he had projected, were to have been performed, he was become disa- 
 bled by disease and the infirmities of a premature old age. 
 
 “On our quickest decrees 
 
 The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
 
 Steals ere we can effect them.” 
 
 He followed the precept of Apelles , — nulla dies sine linea , — with 
 such reprehensible strictness, as to make no other distinction of the 
 sabbath than that his labour on that day was less severe, and upon 
 subjects more pleasing to his fancy ; and so far, it was a kind of 
 relaxation : but the divine institution of the sabbath is so well 
 adapted to the physical constitution of man, that the observance of it 
 can never be an impediment in the way to excellence in any art or 
 science. The faculties of the mind, like the muscles of the body, are 
 
156 
 
 invigorated by repose ; and the renovation of strength more than 
 compensates for any loss of time. I say nothing here of the moral 
 obligation which is imperative on all. I doubt, however, whether a 
 painter might not be as much justified in painting a scripture subject 
 on a Sunday, before or after divine service ; as an ecclesiastic in wri- 
 ting a paraphrase on some passage in the sacred volume, or in illus- 
 trating some moral precept. For instance, if he were to paint an 
 impressive picture of Christ rebuking the unclean spirit in the boy 
 possessed, or of Christ raising Lazarus, or Jairus’s daughter, &c . ; 
 the beneficial influence of such a work upon the minds of those who 
 cannot read, might be very great indeed, or even of those who can ; 
 for, according to Quintillian, pictur'd sic in intimos penetrat afflec- 
 tus, uf ipsam vim dicendi, nonunquam superare rid eat nr. The 
 truth of which sentiment is further confirmed by the testimony of 
 the critical Horace ; who says, though in allusion to scenic repre- 
 sentation, 
 
 Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem 
 
 Quam cjiue sunt occulis subjecta fidelibus. 
 
 The Homan Catholic priesthood, aware of this influence, did not 
 neglect to avail themselves of so powerful an instrument in order to 
 instil into the minds of their illiterate flocks, the gross superstitions 
 and idolatries of their religion : had they, however, confined the 
 subjects of their pictures to the written word of God — the historical 
 part especially of the transactions of Christ and his apostles — much 
 benefit might have been derived from such representations. 
 
 Mr, Homney, in the midst of his struggle for independence, had his 
 mind still so ardently and constantly bent upon composing pictures 
 from the sublimer works of the poets, that he was happy when any 
 of his literary friends would furnish him with subjects from which he 
 
157 
 
 might make his selection. Dr. Potter, the learned translator of the 
 Greek Tragedies, was one of his chief contributors. 
 
 '[’lie following- letter from the distinguished translator of the Xaisiad, 
 and the two subsequent ones from Dr. Potter, will shew that Mr. 
 Romney had been diligent in his inquiries upon this subject : they 
 will likewise be found to contain other particulars interesting- to the 
 general reader. 
 
 “ Sir, 
 
 “As you was so g-ood as to honour me with an intimation of your 
 desire that i would point out to you any subjects of painting- which 
 might strike me in the course of my reading*, I have taken the liberty 
 to trouble you with this letter. 
 
 “ I have often thought that the death of David Rizzio in the pre- 
 sence of Mary queen of Scots, who was then about two and twenty, 
 was an excellent subject for a painter, who could blend the tender 
 and terrific, and great expression might be thrown into the figures 
 of Darnley and the other assassins. 
 
 “You have been so g-ood as to talk of attempting- the apparition by 
 the Cape of Good Hope. You know much better how to group the 
 story than I can suggest, but there can be no harm in offering- my 
 ideas. It is a night-scene— 1 would have the hind castle of Gama’s ship 
 near, with a shortened view of the side, the other two ships at a little 
 farther distance. Around the stern of Gama’s ship the breaking ot 
 the waves to give some light, which is nature. Between the ships 
 and the rocky Cape I would place the apparition as if coming from 
 the rock, hovering in the clouded air. The poem says there were 
 
158 
 
 neither moon nor stars, but the picture must have some light. I have 
 seen the breaking of the waves in a dark night look fiery, red, and 
 glimmering; this I have already hinted ; and I think the pale gleam 
 of some of those streaks called the northern lights would add to the 
 terrific solemnity of the whole. All the above, however, is merely 
 offered as hints, and perhaps erroneous. But the passions to be ex- 
 pressed by the apparition are in my own line, and as drawn in the 
 poem, are those of melancholy gloom, the rage of disappointed pride, 
 and the ferocious consolation of revenue. Gama on the hind deck, 
 however small, ought to express horror and intrepidity. 
 
 “ The other picture from the Lusiad, which 1 think you said was 
 recommended to you by Lord Hardwicke and the Poet Laureat, was 
 the crowning of the skeleton of the beautiful Inez. At first I own i 
 did not like the subject ; but on better thoughts I think the pencil of 
 Romney would overcome every difficulty. But were 1 to offer a 
 hint, I would by no means have any more of the skeleton to appear 
 than the hands. Under a sheet, properly disposed, the emaciated 
 body might appear, and the face have double effect; the crown on 
 such a reclining head, the sceptre as if dropping from her dead hand, 
 the nobility kissing the bones of the other hand, the exquisite grief, 
 yet firm look of the king, her husband, in fulfilling his vow that she 
 should be crowned queen of Portugal, and the solemn horror of the 
 nobility in going through this ceremony, are circumstances to 
 which you will do justice, and which will also give scope to your 
 exertions. 
 
 “ Be so good as to remember my best compliments to Mr. Brai- 
 th waite when you see him ; and when any other subject strikes me 
 
150 
 
 I shall think myself happy if the smallest hint should afford you any 
 thing’ worthy of your attention. 
 
 “ I am, Sir, 
 
 “ Your most obedient humble servant, 
 
 “W. T. Mickle.” 
 
 Oxford, April 12, 1779. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I have the pleasure of telling you that my portrait arrived safe 
 last night, with no more soil upon it than what was easily wiped off 
 with a dry handkerchief. It now makes a very conspicuous figure in 
 my parlour, and is ready to shew my neighbours how great an ho- 
 nour you have done me. As I apprehend you wish to hear that it 
 came undamaged, 1 cannot omit giving you the earliest account of 
 it, and at the same time of sending you my most grateful thanks for 
 so very valuable a present. I have some expectations of seeing you 
 about the middle of October. 
 
 “ ! am persuaded that the scene in Alcestis, which you mean, is 
 not where she dies, but where she is brought back to her husband ; 
 this I will immediately transcribe for you, as soon as 1 can see Mr. 
 Milles, at present he is not in Norfolk : it is long, I shall send you 
 the whole, and as it will make a large packet, I wish to send it to 
 vou free. If, however, I mistake your intention, and the scene where 
 she dies, is what you would chuse, you have only to signify your 
 pleasure, and that also shall be sent you. With the greatest respect, 
 
 “ I am, Sir, 
 
 “ Your most obliged and obedient servant, 
 
 “R, Potter.” 
 
 Seaming, 14 Augt, 1779. 
 
160 
 
 Seaming-, ‘26 Dec., 1780. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “You have such an aversion to writing that I know it is in vain to 
 expect the favour of a letter from you ; therefore with regard to 
 yourself I must be contented with hoping you are well. You may, 
 however, receive some pleasure from knowing that the Volume of the 
 English Euripides is finished, nay more, it is in the press, and will 
 be published as soon as the printer can get through his work ; but I 
 fear this will not be till the end of March ; when the book is ready to 
 be delivered, I shall take a journey to town of necessity, as I shall 
 not be able to settle the list of subscribers without waiting in person 
 on some gentlemen who are too great to be addressed by letter, and 
 who, I flatter myself, are friendly to me. My daughter sent me 
 word that she left my rude copy of the Bacchae at your house ; I do 
 not apprehend that it can afford you any scene for a picture. I am 
 now at work upon the Iphigenia at Aulis, which 1 hope to finish be- 
 fore I come to town : if you wish to have the scene of her sacrifice 
 I will bring it with me, and that of Polyxena, which is very fine, f 
 am now going upon a visit near Norwich, where I expect to be on 
 Thursday evening ; from thence I shall send this letter, for the sake 
 of a postscript, which I shall then have occasion to add. 
 
 “ 1 am, dear Sir, 
 
 “Your faithful humble servant, 
 
 “ R. Potter.” 
 
 “ P. S. — Tomorrow I shall send you from hence a Turkey, 
 which will be at the Bull in Bishopsgate Street on Saturday about 
 two in the afternoon. 1 shall be glad to hear that it arrives safe.” 
 Norwich, 28th. 
 
161 
 
 Dr. Potter’s translation of iEschylus was read by Mr. Romney in* 
 mediately after its publication, and lie was so forcibly impressed by 
 the boldness and sublimity of tbe subjects selected by that early dra- 
 matist, and by the simple, but vigorous manner in which they were 
 treated, that he called him the painters poet, and ranked him next 
 to Shakspeare as a powerful delineator of the stronger passions. 
 
 It was about this period that he composed those two admirable 
 designs, The Ghost of Darius, and Atossas Dream ; audit would 
 have been fortunate, if the drudgery of portrait-painting had allowed 
 him sufficient time to have converted them into pictures, while the 
 imagination was still warm with their first conception. 
 
 Subjects of the sublime, in which the powerful passions are repre- 
 sented, were, I think, the most congenial to Mr. Romney’s mind. 
 He had a perfect knowledge of the effects which the violent emotions 
 of the mind produce upon the features of the face, and the action of 
 the body ; so that he could impart to the eye a language almost as 
 expressive as that of the tongue, and communicate to the muscles 
 and limbs all that appropriate action which they assume according to 
 the impulse of different passions ; he could represent with exact dis- 
 crimination the shades by which kindred affections differ from each 
 other, and even depict that agony of distress, when conflicting 
 passions lacerate the tenderest feelings of the heart — which is the 
 highest effort of skill — the acme of pictorial expression : and his de- 
 signs, representing the struggle between disappointed love and ma- 
 ternal affection in the bosom of Medea, so beautifully described in 
 the epigram on the picture painted by Timomachus ; — are convincing 
 proofs of his ability in this respect. In short, if there was any part 
 of his art in which he more especially excelled, it was in expression, 
 
 Y 
 
162 
 
 which is the soul of painting. The figure of Atossa, in the design of 
 Dariuss Ghost above mentioned, is alone sufficient to illustrate and 
 confirm my observations. It is impossible to express more in so few 
 strokes; they are full of mind and soul. Fear has deprived the mus- 
 cles of their firmness, and her knees seem to tremble beneath her. — 
 “The joints of her loins were loosed, and her knees smote one against 
 another.” 
 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Romney’s ardent enthusiasm for heroic 
 painting, he had a rich and elegant fancy, and a nice perception of 
 the charms and graces of female beauty; particularly of that fascina- 
 ting reserve, which results from innocence and virtue : he had, also, 
 a correct feeling and knowledge of the unrestrained actions and play- 
 ful antics of children ; and by combining these respective impressions, 
 he formed in his imagination those ideal beings, called Fairies, which 
 have so frequently been employed as agents in poetic fictions. 
 
 There are certain felicities both of conception and execution, in 
 painting as well as in poetry, in which an artist may be said 
 “To catch a grace beyond the reach of art.” 
 
 That poetic fervour and almost magical influence, which directs both 
 the pencil and the pen, and gives birth to those felicities, was power- 
 fully felt by Mr. Romney. He had a just conception of the beau 
 ideal which he had acquired by a diligent study of the antique while 
 at Rome ; so that even in his portraits he was able to combine ideal 
 grace with the realities of nature. He could impart to his female 
 figures that indescribable something — that Je ne sai quoi which cap- 
 tivates the spectator without his being able to account for it. He 
 knew how to unite Grecian grace with Etruscan simplicity. The 
 small cartoon, representing the Death of Cordelia, is a beautiful 
 
163 
 
 specimen of this kind of composition ; the weeping mutes are ex- 
 quisite. Indeed, his love of the simplex munditiis has, upon one 
 occasion, betrayed him into an impropriety. In The Dream of 
 Atossa, Asia, instead of being arrayed in gorgeous apparel, is 
 attired like her companion Grsecia. Simplicity, however, is a charm 
 that a painter should never lose sight of ; — grace can hardly subsist 
 without it. 
 
 In the subordinate parts of a picture he generally excelled. He 
 painted drapery with great facility and quickness ; and, though it is 
 often slight, it is always masterly. In his back-grounds he was not 
 so happy, he seems to have painted with too much body in his colours, 
 and with too full a brush ; so that he sometimes missed those delicate 
 touches which express distance. In this department of his art lie was 
 certainly inferior to Reynolds, whose back-grounds are often exqui- 
 site bits of landscape. 
 
 In the colouring of Mr. Romney’s portraits there is a purity, a clear- 
 ness, and relief, which give them the appearance of reality. In repre- 
 senting the carnations of the female face his skill was pre-eminent. It 
 might truly be said, in the metaphorical language of Anacreon, that he 
 
 Tpacps ptva xou 7rap£ta^, 
 
 PoSoc too yaXaxlt fju^ag. 
 
 That is, in portraying the lovely features of woman, he combined the 
 three primary colours of the most delicate character — for under the 
 term milk may be comprehended all the gradations of tint from the 
 skimmed blue to the yellow cream. 
 
 He never sacrificed the durability of his colours in order to obtain 
 by meretricious arts a temporary applause for rich and mellow tints. 
 
164 
 
 His style is clear, cliaste, and unsophisticated ; and lie will obtain 
 from time, what others have anticipated by trick. His pictures which 
 were painted sixty years ago, appear now as fresh as if recently taken 
 from the easel. As he never put his name upon his pictures, I fear 
 that many of them may hereafter be transferred to Reynolds, especi- 
 ally when those by the latter are become evanescent ; although there is 
 in fact a very manifest difference between the styles of the two masters. 
 
 1 feel myself justified in making these precautionary observations, 
 because, as 1 know that posthumous fame was an object of Mr. 
 Romney’s ambition, I should deem myself deficient in duty, were I 
 not to endeavour to obviate every circumstance that might be the 
 means of depriving him of any part of his merited reputation. 
 
 I have upon a former occasion, mentioned Mr. Romney’s ability in 
 portraying dogs ; he by a rare rapidity and facility of pencil, could 
 impart to them all the apparent action and vivacity of life. I shall 
 just notice here three instances as specimens of his skill in that 
 respect. — The representation of a Pomeranian dog in a half-length 
 picture of a naked boy, (I believe Master Mawby, son of Sir Joseph.) 
 Nothing can exceed the beautiful grouping of this boy and dog ; 
 the colouring also is exquisite, and the effect altogether most charm- 
 ing. The boy is about three or four years old, with his hair hanging 
 in loose and graceful ringlets. It is only by seeing such pictures 
 as this that Mr. Romney’s talents can be duly appreciated. — 
 The beautiful spaniels in Master and Miss Clavering’s picture, 
 already described — And a Spaniel halting a Cat; the portrait of a 
 favourite dog belonging to the Duchess of Richmond, which Mr, 
 Romney, with his usual liberality, presented to her Grace as a token 
 of his respect. 
 
Although I have already alluded to his quick manner of painting, 
 1 shall, notwithstanding, adduce two examples confirmatory of my 
 former observations, because they occurred under my own immediate 
 notice. One was in the picture of a youth of the name of Pelham, 
 represented in his shooting dress, and reposing upon a bank, having 
 a brace of dead partridges lying near him. The birds were painted 
 in half an hour. They are done in a dashing, and apparently slo- 
 venly style; but when seen at a proper distance, and in accordance 
 with the general effect, the deception becomes so perfect, that one 
 might almost be tempted to go and take them up. The other, in 
 the portrait of the beautiful Miss Shakspear, who was afterwards 
 married to Mr. Oliver. A quarter of a year after her accouchement 
 she wished to have her baby introduced into her picture. It was, ac- 
 cordingly, represented sleeping upon her lap, and completely finished 
 in half an hour, and with such truth of nature as to impress the spec- 
 tator with an idea of hearing it respire. 
 
 His versatility of talent was great. In the list of his paintings in 
 the lottery, before he left Kendal, is a Landscape with figures, and 
 four pictures on ludicrous subjects. I have seen small miniatures in 
 oil painted by him in the early part of his life ; and at different times 
 he has amused himself with drawing in crayons, witness the portrait 
 of Cowper, the poet, and Mrs. Charlotte Smith, the novelist. I re- 
 member a beautiful monumental figure which he moulded in clay, 
 representing a female sitting in a pensive attitude. I have also a 
 tinted drawing of his own portrait. 
 
 Although Mr. Romney had neither inclination nor leisure for mix- 
 ing much in society; yet he occasionally associated with a set of wits, 
 
166 
 
 who formed themselves into a club about this period ; from the frag- 
 ments of which, afterwards, originated a later one, called The Un - 
 increasibles. Of his associates I well remember the older Sheridan, 
 Henderson, the actor, Evans, an eminent bookseller of his day, and 
 a man of rare humour in conversation, the Reverend C. Este, after- 
 wards editor of the World Newspaper, and the author of a Journey 
 through Flanders ; and some other distinguished individuals. There 
 was much friendly intercourse between him and Henderson, whose 
 portrait he painted in the character of Macbeth upon a Bolognese 
 half-length. It represents Macbeth accosting the three witches in 
 the heath scene : 
 
 “ live you ? or are you aught 
 
 That man may question ? you seem to understand me 
 
 By each at once her choppy finger laying 
 
 Upon her skinny lips.” 
 
 It was a very fine picture. — Henderson was a most accomplished 
 actor, and had a fine turn for humour; but his person had defects 
 which no art could conceal. In Falstaff, in which those defects did 
 not appear, or, perhaps, rather aided the character, he was pre-emi- 
 nent; he wanted, however, expression, and his features were too 
 round. Of course hostile critics did not overlook this defect ; and I 
 remember once seeing in a newspaper some commendatory verses, 
 in which an attempt was made to disprove this imputation by appeal- 
 ing to Mr. Romney’s picture. The compliment meant for the actor, 
 was unintentionally paid to the painter. This picture was painted 
 about the time when Sheridan and Henderson had their Public Rea- 
 dings. Those by the former were drawling and heavy, but the rea- 
 ding of Tristram Shandy by Henderson was exquisite beyond 
 conception. Mr. Romney being present at one of those recitations, 
 was so forcibly struck with the countenance of a man staring with 
 
167 
 
 itll his attention at Sheridan, that he could not refrain from studying 
 it carefully as an appropriate representation of a witch’s face ; and 
 having on his return home sketched it on canvass, he afterwards in- 
 troduced it into the picture of Henderson. The original study I gave 
 to Mr. Stewardson, the painter. The prototype of all Mr. Romney’s 
 visionary beings was nature. In the delineation of witches and fai- 
 ries he was superior to Mr. Fuseli, whose conception of excellence 
 consists in an unnatural extravagance : indeed, in almost all the pro- 
 ductions of the latter, whether they are of a sublime or beautiful 
 character, there is the same aberration from just feeling; for when 
 he aspires after grandeur, and imagines that he is treading in the 
 footsteps of Michael Angelo, he generally oversteps his model, and 
 falls into the false sublime. Du sublime au ridicule il riy a qu un 
 pas : as Buonaparte has justly observed. In short, whoever imitates 
 Michael Ang elo, walks upon the slippery brink of a towering precipice, 
 and he must have a steadier step than Mr. Fuseli to avoid the bathos of 
 extravagance. What Horace has said of Pindar as a poet may, perhaps, 
 with equal propriety be applied to Michael Angelo as a painter. 
 
 Any el am quisquis studet ;emulari 
 
 ceratis ope Dedalea 
 
 Nititur pennis. — 
 
 The style ot this great master cannot, perhaps, be better expressed 
 than it has been by Agostino Caracci in bis sonnet; certainly not 
 more briefly. 
 
 Di Michel Angiol la terribil via. 
 
 But when Mr. Fuseli attempts to represent the beautiful in art, he 
 is still more remote from the truth of nature. It was a consciousness, 
 perhaps, of Mr. Romney’s superiority in a department of the art 
 which he arrogantly regarded as his own exclusive province ; 
 
168 
 
 coupled, I fear, with some private pique, that induced him to speak 
 so unhandsomely of Mr. Romney in his quaint observation. — But 
 to return to the picture of Henderson. — Some years after, The 
 Unincreasihles, consisting of eight members including Mr. Romney, 
 clubbed ten guineas a piece and purchased it ; and having made a 
 raffle, it fell to the lot of Mr. Long, the surgeon. 
 
 It was in January, 1781, that the Lord Chancellor Thurlow first 
 came to sit to Mr. Romney for his portrait at the request of Earl 
 Gower. His Lordship is painted full-length in his robes, with much 
 grandeur, and dignity of character. It is a very admirable portrait, 
 and decidedly superior to the one painted by Sir Joshua. While 
 Lord Thurlow was sitting to Reynolds, his Lordship suggested to 
 him the story of Orpheus and Eurydice as a proper subject for a pic- 
 ture ; but, whether he did not regard it in the same light, or his con- 
 ceptions did not correspond with those of the Chancellor with respect 
 to the manner of treating it; it is certain that Lord Thurlow then 
 began to entertain a less favourable opinion of that celebrated pain- 
 ter’s genius. In the course of his sitting to Mr. Romney his Lordship 
 proposed the same subject to him also, and was so much pleased with 
 his observations, which corresponded with his own ideas, that he 
 condescended to translate the whole episode from Virgil for his use. 
 Which translation, in the autograph of Lord Thurlow, is now in my 
 possession, and which I shall take the liberty of inserting here on 
 account of the able comments and illustrations which accompany it. 
 
 “ The text, rendered word for word, is certainly a more awkward, 
 but (to a close observer who minds the subject more than the style) 
 a juster picture, than looser translation ever gives of the ori- 
 ginal. Eurydice is dead by the bite of a water snake ; and 
 
169 
 
 thus the story proceeds, without the advantage of the author’s pecu- 
 liar neatness and force. 
 
 “ To assuage with his harp the agony of wounded love, his song was 
 still of thee, sweet wife ! of thee, along the lonely shore ; of thee, when 
 the morning dawned ; of thee, when the evening closed. He entered 
 even the jaws of Tsenaros, the lofty portal ot Pluto, and the grove 
 shaded with the darkness of horrour. He addressed the ghosts, and 
 their dread king. Hearts never made to melt at human woe. But, 
 struck with his song, thin Shades Hocked from the lowest mansions 
 of Erebus. Phantoms of the dead, innumerable as birds sheltered 
 under the leaves, which evening or wintry storms drive from the 
 hills, mothers, husbands, the lifeless forms of mighty heroes, boys, 
 unmarried girls, youths whom then” parents saw upon the pile. These 
 the black mud, and shapeless reed, and dull pool of hateful Cocytos 
 coniines ; and Styx rolls nine times round them. The very cells and 
 inward dungeons of hell were struck, so were the Furies, whose hair 
 is plaited with blue snakes; Cerberus held his triple jaws a-gape ; and 
 the wheel of Ixion stopp’d at his approach. And now returning, he 
 had surmounted every danger ; Eurydice, let out, approached the 
 region of day — following him behind. Such were the terms imposed 
 by Proserpine — when a sudden oversight surprised the unthinking 
 lover: lie stopp’d — and — Eurydice just upon the verge of light — for- 
 getting- — overcome with fondness — he looked hack— There all his 
 labour was lost, and the laws broken of a power deaf to mercy. 
 Thrice the lakes of Avernus heard the crash of thunder. She cries, 
 what hath undone thy wretched wife, and thee, Orpheus ? What ex- 
 cess of phrenzy ? lo, the cruel Fates recall me, drowsiness loads my 
 
 swimming* eyes; and now farewell. 1 am carried off, enveloped 
 
 in monstrous night, stretching my nerveless hand to thee-, alas ! no 
 
 z 
 
170 
 
 longer thine. She spoke and fleeted from his gaze, as smoke melts 
 into thinner air ; nor saw him more, vainly catching at the shadows 
 and eager to say a thousand things; no more the Ferryman of hell 
 allowed him to cross the lakes — what should he do ? where betake 
 himself after this double loss ? She floated cold upon the Stygian 
 boat ; he, they say, for seven long months under a bleak rock, by 
 the waves of desert Strymon, wept lonely, and poured out his com- 
 plaints to the cold stars ; softening tigers, and leading away oaks 
 with his song. 
 
 “ The point of time, fullest of the painful event, and most marked 
 with the crisis of the story, is the moment of her uttering her last 
 words. 
 
 “ The scene is in the twilight of hell, far within the massy shapeless 
 jaws of a vast cavern. 
 
 “ The agitation of the scene makes it more terrible. The torments 
 and horrours of hell had been suspended while the miracle proceed- 
 ed. When the spell was broken, it shook all the lower world : three 
 crashes of thunder were heard from end to end of that immense region. 
 Such an opening of that solid gloom might produce a livid light; and 
 make a glimpse of the dreary grove, the banks of Cocytos peopled 
 with mournful wanderers, Styx, Cerberus, Ixion, and the rest more 
 horrible. Black and coarse clouds, of a texture all but massy, (mon- 
 strous night, as she calls it,) gather round the delicate limbs, and 
 bear off the beautiful phantom of Eurydice. 
 
 “ The action of her figure is still speaking to Orpheus ; engrossed 
 with vehement love, and the agony of hopeless grief ; and vainly 
 
171 
 
 stretching forth her hands to him for relief and rescue : but the hea- 
 viness of deatli is on her eye-lids; her eyes maintain that unfixed and 
 uncertain regard, which the poet calls swimming; her lips scarcely 
 open enough to convey her words ; her almost pendulous arms and 
 hands are, in part, assisted by the rolling of the clouds to offer them- 
 selves to her rescue; her head, which begins to sink on one side, by 
 the same means seems to preserve the posture of addressing him; the 
 rest of her nerveless limbs, just lifted from the ground, appear to be 
 governed and disposed by the torrent of the cloud, which is bearing 
 her off. 
 
 “ In her countenance appears the fading of perfect beauty. That 
 play of feature, which once made dimples and smiles, is now only 
 traced in a certain sensible delicacy, and soft melancholy. T he ring- 
 lets of her hair have lost their spring ; the muscles of her neck are 
 inert, and beginning to collapse ; the form of her breast, though 
 still charming, begins to flatten and sink. 
 
 “Any one of these ideas brought too forward will shock the eye; 
 the impossible is the thing required — to shew the last, faint traces 
 of strong passion in a figure without strength; and express the influ- 
 ence of death without its deformity. Richardson has done it wonder- 
 fully in the death of Clarissa, to which you are referred. Rut a part 
 of his idea was Christian composure, which left the character of the 
 countenance less complicated. 
 
 “In the mean time what is Orpheus doing? The infernal world 
 is breaking* before him ; and all its original horrours double round 
 him. In the moment of this extreme terrour and astonishment, the 
 condition of Eurydice touches a more feeling fibre, and the characters 
 
172 
 
 of grief and despair reign among those of honour and wonder. He 
 is catching at the rack of the clouds, which fold Eurydice. Mere 
 instinct prompted that action — his countenance shews that he never 
 hoped to seize her. He even tries to speak.” 
 
 Mr. Romney made several designs from this subject. The moment 
 of time which he has generally selected, is when the astonished and 
 afflicted Orpheus extends his arms to embrace his lost Eurydice. 
 Three sketches are in the Fitz william Museum, Cambridge; and two 
 cartoons in the Liverpool Royal Institution; in one of the latter the 
 Fates are represented in a picturesque manner, as dragging Eurydice 
 back from the ardent embrace of her husband. He also began a pic- 
 ture in oil, which was destroyed at Hampstead. All are differently 
 treated, and all well. 
 
 Lord Thurlow avowed his preference of Mr. Romney, and said, 
 Reynold s and Romney divide the town, l am of the Romney faction. 
 Mr. Hayle} 7 , when he mentions this circumstance, as if afraid lest he 
 should incur the displeasure of the partizans of Reynolds, who might 
 in consequence, decry his book, affects to regard the expression as a 
 mere play of words without meaning. His Lordship, however, as 
 Mr. Hayley well knew, was not a man to say any tiling without 
 meaning ; or to say one thing and mean another. Jn fact, Mr. 
 Hay ley himself entertained the same sentiments, for he says in a let- 
 ter addressed to me in 1808, the year before he published Mr. Rom- 
 ney’s Idle ; “ between ourselves I think your father as much superior 
 to Reynolds in genius, as he was inferior in worldly prudence." And 
 indeed, after all, he clearly admits as much, by allowing him a larger 
 proportion of the essential endowments of genius, and by making the 
 scale to turn in Reynolds’ favour by qualities which have no real 
 
173 
 
 connexion with Ins art. 1 maintain, and am not afraid of avowing* it, 
 because l feel ! am right, — that Mr. Romney, when in the meridian 
 of Ids powers, was capable of painting* a picture of higher excellence 
 than Reynolds. — 1 say this, notwithstanding* Mr. Northcote, in his 
 Life of Sir Joshua, has made the following* absurd and contradictory 
 observation. “Certain it is, that Sir Joshua was not much employed 
 in portraits after Romney grew into fashion, although the difference 
 between those painters was so immense.” This sentence may be di- 
 vided into two parts : the first is an undeniable fact; the second a 
 bold assertion, and only excusable (if excusable at all) as coming 
 from a partial pupil, whose judgment had been blinded by affection 
 and gratitude : but the fact stated in the first part is quite sufficient 
 to confute the assertion in the last ; for Mr. Romney was not only 
 able to divert the current of popular opinion from Reynolds, and 
 make it run in his own favour; but he did this in spite of Sir .Josh- 
 ua’s pow erful and zealous friends, w hose influence was unlimited ; in 
 spite of the Royal Academy, who, as a body, were hostile to him; and 
 even w ithout the influence of Royal patronage : and thus it continued 
 unabated to the last. — Mr. Romney’s narrow circumstances, however, 
 constrained him to devote the best hours of his life to portrait-painting; 
 so that he had not those fine opportunities which Reynolds had, who 
 soon became affluent, of directing* his studies to w orks of imagination ; 
 yet still he did enough to establish his character as an historical pain- 
 ter of the first rank. His picture of the Tempest combines more of 
 the excellencies of the art than the Cauldron scene by Sir Joshua. 
 Macbeth in the latter wants dignity, energy, and fire ; and there is 
 in the whole composition a feebleness unworthy of the practised 
 pencil of Sir Joshua. 1 beg* to compare his Macbeth with the tw o 
 animated sketches of the same character by Mr. Romney, in the 
 Fitzwilliam Museum. 
 
174 
 
 If I were to compare the Cassandra, by Mr. Romney, with the 
 Thais of Sir Joshua, I should give the preference to the former. The 
 Infant Shakspeare attended by the Passions is a picture of a higher 
 class than the much extolled one of the Death of Cardinal Beaufort. 
 The attribute which should chiefly characterize the latter, is expres- 
 sion ; but in that it fails the most. Nothing can be more insipid and 
 vulgar, more destitute of dignity than Salisbury and Warwick. The 
 face of king Henry is concealed, not, however, upon the principle, 
 which induced Timanthes, the great painter of expression and passion, 
 to hide the countenance of Agamemnon — who, having exhausted all 
 his powers in depicting the different gradations of pity and sorrow, 
 upon the afflicted spectators ; to heighten the climax of feeling had 
 recourse to this expedient, in order that the imagination might con- 
 ceive, what the pencil could not execute. Such a device in the case 
 of this picture was altogether unnecessary ; but it was convenient, 
 because it relieved the painter from a task, which he might, perhaps, 
 have found it somewhat difficult to perform. The expression of 
 Beaufort’s countenance, which was, I have no doubt, intended as the 
 perfection of art, is manifestly a failure. The eyes of the cardinal 
 writhing in the agonies of death, give no indications of the remorse 
 and despair which rankled at his heart ; the whole expression is 
 merely that of bodily pain, and the moral impression is lost. I can 
 conceive that a great painter, in representing this subject, might have 
 produced a countenance so appalling, as almost to petrify the spec- 
 tator with horror. The excellence of this picture consists chiefly in 
 the colouring ; but even in this respect, 1 will not allow it to possess 
 any superiority over The Infant Shakspeare attended by the Passi- 
 ons. This latter, however, has a much higher claim to merit, being 
 one of the most poetical of Mr. Romney’s pictures ; it bears a strong 
 resemblance to Collin’s Ode to the Passions, as a work of pure ima- 
 
175 
 
 filiation ; but as a work of art, it may be compared to the best of 
 Correggio's pictures. What can be more tender and delicate in co- 
 louring', what more graceful and fascinating in design than Joy and 
 the Baby Shakspeare ? W hat more sweet and lovely than the 
 
 representation of Virtuous Love ? In chiaro ’ scuro , and in the dis- 
 position of the figures, there is much also of the manner of Correggio. 
 Ever since this picture was sold at the Shakspeare Gallery — and it 
 was sold for a very inadequate sum, but to whom I do not know — 
 I have regretted its loss. Unfortunately I was not there ; but wher- 
 ever it is, if it exist at all, ! deem it well worth five hundred guineas. 
 I wish it was in the National Gallery, the only proper repository for 
 such a picture. I am very sorry that when Mr. Romney gave it to 
 the Roydells, he did not saddle his gift with the condition — that it 
 should be engraved by Sharp. It is a matter of serious concern to 
 his reputation, that most of the prints taken from his pictures, parti- 
 cularly from those that were in the Shakspeare Gallery, are badly 
 executed. He disregarded this important object far too much, impor- 
 tant to him especially ; as few of his works have ever been before the 
 public, and those have now disappeared. It never occurred to his 
 mind, S am sure, when prints were taken from his pictures, that they 
 might, perhaps, become the only medium through which those pic- 
 tures would be seen and judged. 
 
 Mr. Romney has left numerous historical and fancy sketches 
 which bear ample testimony to his genius. Many of them are con- 
 ceived with much originality of idea, and have great force and power 
 of expression. Others have exquisite pastoral grace and simplicity. 
 Has Reynolds left any similar proofs of talent ? 
 
 It was difficult lor Mr. Romney to cope with so potent a rival, 
 who abounded in wealth, kept a splendid table, and had a host of 
 
176 
 
 zealous and powerful friends. Reynolds was a man of the world ; 
 he knew well what he was about, and how to promote his own inte- 
 rests ; he was not deficient in vanity and display, witness the inscrip- 
 tion, written by himself under his own portrait sent to the Florentine 
 Gallery. Even when he made his Will and contemplated his disso- 
 lution, he did not forget how much might be effected by the influence 
 of friends, and by liberal bequests. Nothing- could have been devised 
 more likely to uphold the character, and raise the value of his works, 
 than to leave two hundred pounds a piece to four friends, to be ex- 
 pended in purchasing- pictures at his auction ; and other similar lega- 
 cies, to excite gratitude, and stimulate competition for his works. 
 Mr. Romney, on the contrary, had nothing to rely upon but his own 
 genius ; which alone enabler! him to triumph over difficulties and ob- 
 stacles, such as few artists have encountered with success. 
 
 Never were two persons more opposite in character than these two 
 distinguished painters. I say it with regret, because the peculiarities 
 of Mr. Romney’s mind tended much to his prejudice ; yet he was 
 not, perhaps, at the bottom, less amiable than his rival. Mr. Rom- 
 ney was retired in his habits, and too reserved; he did not cultivate 
 genera] society, and, therefore, had few friends. When Reynolds 
 had finished his professional labours for the day, he sought relaxation 
 and recreation in the refined society of accomplished literary men : 
 whereas Mr. Romney in consequence of his nervous and irritable 
 frame, was obliged to have recourse to a different system ; and to 
 seek to recruit the energies of his mind by the indulgence of tran- 
 quility and quiet: for this reason he generally declined engagements. 
 When the spring was sufficiently advanced to allow him to walk into 
 the country, he sometimes used to drink tea at Kilburn Wells, or some 
 other public place; and when the days were longer, lie often went to 
 
177 
 
 time at the Long-- Room, Hampstead. He was not, however, in these 
 excursions, an inattentive observer of any object that might contribute 
 to his art. He always had a sketch-book and a pencil in his pocket ; 
 so that if a picturesque group of children, a peculiar cast of counte- 
 nance, an effect in the sky, or a plant for a fore-ground happened to 
 present itself to his notice, his pencil was at hand. He had great 
 pleasure in observing evening and twilight effects, and began four 
 pictures, suggested by such observations, representing the visitations 
 of ghosts or fairies at that solemn and fancy-moving hour. He occa- 
 sionally visited Bagnidge Wells, and other places of resort frequented 
 by the lower orders, as excellent schools for the studv of character. 
 Thus he and Reynolds pursued different courses to attain the same 
 end ; and each that course which was best suited, according to their 
 respective mental frames, for the attainment of that end : but Mr. 
 Romney, by thus withdrawing from society, necessarily narrowed 
 the circle of his acquaintance, so that his partizans were generally 
 those who admired his pictures without knowing the man. 
 
 Perfection does not belong- to human nature. Our excellence is 
 only comparative, and they are the best, who have the fewest defects. 
 Mr. Romney undoubtedly had his share of infirmities ; but his errors 
 were rather the offspring of circumstance, than originating from any 
 corrupt principle, lie was the dupe of Ids feelings, but exempt from 
 all gross propensities. His honour and his honesty were naturally 
 pure; and he harboured no malevolent passions in his breast. He 
 was tree from the debasing- influence of avarice, which has been im- 
 puted to Sir Joshua. Mr. Cumberland, indeed, has said, that “he 
 had no dislike to money; ” but this reflection is as unkind as itisun- 
 candid. Mr. Romney, from having- had to struggle for so many years 
 with poverty, had, perhaps, contracted some little habits of parsimony, 
 
 A A 
 
178 
 
 but the mind had no participation in them. Can a man be said to 
 be fond of money who had the generosity to advance his brother six 
 hundred pounds, to lit him out for India, which was all the money 
 he had in the world, and which he had saved in the preceding year ? 
 But this Mr. Romney did, and at that period of his life too (aged 
 forty two) when it became highly expedient that he should lose no 
 time in providing for himself. Mr. Cumberland ought to have remem- 
 bered, that when he himself was in need, after his return from Spain, 
 Mr. Romney advanced him five hundred pounds in the most liberal 
 manner. Being a man of tender feelings, he was ever alive to ap- 
 plications for charity ; and the readiness with which he gave, made 
 those applications frequent. He felt every disposition, also, to suc- 
 cour young artists of talent ; and whenever he heard of any such 
 impeded by poverty, his purse was open for their assistance. He 
 might truly have said, in the words of Dido, 
 
 Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco. 
 
 It was not in the want of generosity, but in the misapplication of it, 
 that his fault lay. When a man makes his feelings his guide, he 
 follows an ignis fatuus, which may lead him into bogs and quag- 
 mires. There was a fibre about Mr. Romney’s heart, which the art- 
 ful and designing knew well how to touch, and make subservient to 
 their own base views and advantage. Whatever errors he committed 
 they mainly sprang from this source. 
 
 In 1781 he painted a three-quarters portrait of the beautiful Emily 
 Bertie for Mr. Pott, who took her with him to India, where they 
 both died. He also began a full-length of her in a recumbent pos- 
 ture, which was never finished ; the head he afterwards gave to his 
 pupil, Isaac Pocock. There can be no doubt, that the picture of 
 Thais, by Sir Joshua, was the portrait of Emily Bertie, though Mr. 
 
179 
 
 Northcote denies it stoutly. It is well known that ladies of her de- 
 scription assume different names according as they happen to he con- 
 nected ; she might he Coventry when she sat to Sir Joshua, Bertie 
 when to Mr. Romney, and afterwards Mr. Malone calls her Emily 
 Pott. Mr. Northcote admits that Emily Coventry accompanied a 
 gentleman to the East Indies, where she died; so that the whole affair 
 turns upon the changeable circumstance of a name. With respect to 
 the anecdote which Mr. Northcote has taken such pains to discredit, 
 I see nothing in it that should reflect upon the character of Sir Joshua; 
 his conduct was justifiable, if his motives were good. The lady came 
 to sit for a whole-length portrait, and of course paid half price (seventy 
 five guineas) at the first sitting; she afterwards relinquished her pic- 
 ture, and he then tried to make the most of it by giving it a saleable 
 character. He was so far fortunate, however, that instead of paying 
 for a model, the model paid him. t here might, however, have 
 been a little lurking spite at the bottom, because she went to sit to 
 another painter*. 
 
 * Since writing - (lie above, I found the following - notice of this picture in a pamphlet called 
 the Ear Wig-, containing - remarks on the Exhibition of 1781. The writer does not appear 
 to have been actuated by any hostile feeling - towards Sir Joshua, because his observations on 
 the other works of that artist in the same exhibition, are in general highly commendatory. 
 
 “Thais — Sir Joshua Reynolds, r. a. — This picture long remained in the painter’s gallery, 
 after the tirst sitting — the face was painted from the famous Emily Bertie, to which the artist 
 has added great animation. The figure is rushing abroad with a blazing flambeau in one 
 hand, and exciting with the other to the destruction of Persepolis, which is seen in flames — 
 her drapery, the sky, and every thing in the picture, is highly characteristic of such a scene 
 — but incorrect throughout. — It was a cruel snouch in the painter; a fine girl having paid him 
 seventy five guineas for an hour's work, and being unable to pay for the other half of her 
 portrait, to exhibit her with such a sarcastic allusion to her private life — to call her Thais — 
 to put a torch in her hand, and direct her attention to set flames to the Temple of Chastity. 
 Sucli rigorous punishment seldom is inflicted by a rich man on a pretty woman, merely from 
 her want ol money- — we must therefore search amongst other passions for the reason ; although 
 it may be said, that, where avarice predominates, it is the greatest absorbent of the human 
 mind.” 
 
180 
 
 In consequence of Mr. Romney’s having this year presented to 
 Miss Seward the portrait of Mr. Hayley, she, inspired by gratitude, 
 wrote a copy of verses ; which have since been edited by Sir Walter 
 Scott, but are too long- to be inserted here. 
 
 In ! 781 he also painted the portrait of the learned and pious Doc- 
 tor Porteus, bishop of Chester ; three quarters. 
 
 In 1 782 he painted a half-length portrait of Capt. Pere Williams, r. n. 
 
 A half-length of Lady Augusta Murray, for the Countess Gow er. 
 
 Also, the Countess of Sutherland. 
 
 To gratify Mr. Hayley, he employed his vacant hours about this 
 time in depicting the character of Serena, in the Triumphs of Tem- 
 po]-. He painted four pictures of her ; three representing her reading 
 by candle-light in different attitudes, and the fourth in the Boat of 
 Apathy. Of these, one was bought by Lady Gower, one by the 
 Lord Chancellor Thurlow, and two by Mr. Christian Curwen. 
 
 In the beginning of 1782 Lady .Hamilton, who then passed under 
 the name of Mrs. Hart, first sat to Mr. Romney. She was brought 
 by the Honourable Charles Greville to sit for a three-quarters portrait. 
 It was that beautiful one, so full of naivete, in which she is repre- 
 sented with a little spaniel lap dog under her arm. This picture was 
 afterw ards bought by Mr. Lister Parker at Sir William Hamilton’s 
 sale. Another portrait of her, full-length, in the character of Circe, 
 was begun about the same time ; it had the same expression of coun- 
 tenance, and was very fascinating; but suffered the fate of many 
 others in never having been finished. The brutes, which the Enchan- 
 tress had metamorphosed, could not be painted at that time without 
 much personal inconvenience to Mr. Romney ; so that the picture was 
 
181 
 
 set aside. Gilpin was to have painted them afterwards, but from 
 some cause never did. Had any person, however, offered a hundred 
 guineas for it, \ have no doubt but it would have been completed. 
 
 i cannot enumerate all the pictures which that extraordinary lady 
 sat for ; but I will insert here a list of such as I can remember, 
 finished and unfinished ; viz. the two first mentioned. 
 
 3. Iphigenia ; whole-length; not finished. 
 
 4. St. Cecilia ; half-length ; bought by Mr. Montague Burgoyne 
 for seventy guineas. 
 
 5. Sensibility ; bought by Mr. Hayley for one hundred guineas. 
 
 (1 A Bacchante ; half-length; sent to Sir William Hamilton at 
 
 Naples. The most enchanting of all her portraits. It was, I believe, 
 lost at sea on its return to this country. 
 
 7. Alope exposed with her child ; bought by Admiral Vernon for 
 sixty guineas. 
 
 8. The Spin stress ; bought by Mr. Cur wen for one hundred and 
 fifty guineas. 
 
 9. Cassandra ; for the Shakspeare Gallery for one hundred and 
 eighty guineas. 
 
 10. A three-quarters in a Straw flat called Emma ; for Mr. 
 Crawfurd. 
 
 SI. A Bacchante ; three-quarters; bought by Sir John Leicester 
 for twenty five guineas. The appropriation of character took place 
 after Sir John had purchased it. 
 
 12. A half-length, in a black gown and pink petticoat; sent to 
 N aples. 
 
 13. A half-length, painted after she was Lady Hamilton, given 
 at her request to her mother. 
 
182 
 
 14, 15. Two pictures, a Calypso, and a Magdalene, painted from 
 her when Lady Hamilton, for the Prince of Wales ; two hundred 
 pounds. 
 
 1(). Whole-length of Joan of Arc ; unfinished. 
 
 17. The Pythian Priestess ; half-length; unfinished. 
 
 18. Cassandra; whole-length; unfinished. 
 
 19. A half-length, in which she is represented reading a paper, 
 having the light reflected upon her face ; given to Mr. Haylev. 
 
 20. A three-quarters ; sent to Mr. Deutens in 1 792. 
 
 21. 22, 23. A three-quarters portrait, side-face, shoulders bare — 
 and two Heads now in my possession. 
 
 Fortunate would it have been for Lady Hamilton, if she had con- 
 ducted herself with the same prudence and discretion after she was 
 married to Sir William Hamilton, w hich distinguished her behaviour 
 while she was the Eha-poc of Charles Greville. During the period of 
 six years, while she lived under the protection of the latter, her con- 
 duct w as in every respect correct, except only the unfortunate situa- 
 tion in w hich she happened to be placed by the concurrence of pecu- 
 liar circumstances ; such as might, perhaps, in a certain degree, be 
 admitted as an extenuation of that moral transgression. Here is a 
 young female, of an artless and playful character, of extraordinary 
 elegance and symmetry of form, and of a most beautiful countenance 
 glowing with health and animation, turned upon the wide world, 
 without a friend, a protector, or monitor; exposed to the fascinations 
 of gaiety and splendour, and to the artful representations of seducers ; 
 with a mind, perhaps, not duly imbued with the principles of morality 
 and religion. Is it to he wondered at, that such a female, under such 
 circumstances, should have been induced to pass the line of virtue ? 
 I ar be it from me, however, to become her apologist; but as 1 know 
 
183 
 
 that her conduct in the former part of her life has been misrepresen- 
 ted, and that many extravagant stories have been told of her, impli- 
 cating Mr. Romney, which have not the shadow of foundation ; it is 
 no more than common charity and justice to state such circumstances 
 as will place her character in its true light. In all Mr. Romney’s 
 intercourse with her she was treated with the utmost respect, and her 
 demeanour fully entitled her to it. In the characters in which she 
 has been represented, she only sat for the face, and a slight sketch of 
 the attitude ; and the drapery was painted either from other models, 
 or horn the layman. The only figure that displayed any licentious- 
 ness of dress, was the Bacchante ; and it was as modest as the nature 
 of the character would admit of; hut in this she only sat for the face. 
 There is no doubt but the talent of representing characters by action, 
 and by the expression of countenance, which she afterwards displayed 
 with so much success when Lady Hamilton, was acquired when she 
 sat to Mr. Romney, she being requested to imitate those powerful 
 emotions of the mind which lie wished to paint. It was a great gra- 
 tification to her, to sit as a model ; it amused her, and flattered her 
 vanity. From the peculiarity of her situation she was excluded from 
 society, justly excluded ; and the only resources she had for amuse- 
 ment in her loneliness, were reading and music at home, and coming 
 once or twice a week to sit for her picture. She always had a hack- 
 ney coach to bring, and take her away ; and she never appeared in 
 the streets without her mother. She told Mr. Romney that soon al- 
 ter she became acquainted with Mr. Greville, he took her to Rane- 
 lagh, where she attracted so much notice, that she perceived it gave 
 him pain; she, therefore, of her own accord, put oil her gay attire, 
 and assumed the garb of a lady’s maid, in which she ever after ap- 
 peared, and never again went to any public place. 
 
184 
 
 At length, when Mr. Greville’s circumstances became narrowed, 
 so that he felt himself no longer able to support her as heretofore ; 
 it became expedient, notwithstanding his firm attachment, and her 
 good conduct, to devise some honourable means for her decent sub- 
 sistence. As she had manifested an extraordinary talent for music, 
 and had a fine voice, it was thought that, by proper culture, she might 
 be made a first rate singer. Sir William Hamilton, being then in 
 England, was consulted upon the occasion. He undertook to pro- 
 vide masters for her, and to patronize her, if sent to Naples. All 
 things were accordingly arranged for that purpose, and she was pla- 
 ced under the safe conduct of Gavin 1 landS ton, the painter, who was 
 then returning to Italy. — The sequel of her story is too well known, 
 and too much interwoven with the history of this country, to need 
 any mention here. 
 
 Sometime after Mrs. Hart was «-one to Italy, Mr. Curwen offered 
 to purchase the Spinstress, hut, as it was originally intended for 
 Air. Greville, Air. Romney did not feel himself at liberty to sell it 
 till lie had first ascertained what were the views of the latter gentle- 
 man. He accordingly wrote to Air. Greville, and informed him of 
 the oiler which had been made, and at the same time, also, said, that 
 if he still continued in the intention of purchasing it, he (Air. Rom- 
 ney) would reserve it for him, and postpone the payment till it might 
 suit Air. Greville’s convenience. Mr. Romney received the following 
 answer. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “Your note requires no apology. S proposed to have answered it 
 in person yesterday, but as the time for your answer to Air. Christian 
 is so short, 1 write a line to assure you that my absence from your 
 
185 
 
 house lias not arisen from any relaxation of my regard to you as an 
 amiable and worthy character, or from any less estimation of your 
 professional talents. There are circumstances which force the natu- 
 ral bias of characters, and render it prudent to change the scene of 
 action to train them to necessary sacrifices. The separation from the 
 original of the Spinstress has not been indifferent to me, and I am but 
 just reconciled to it, from knowing that the beneficial consequences 
 of acquirements will be obtained, and that the aberration from the 
 plan I intended will be for her benefit. 1 therefore can have no rea- 
 son to value the Spinstress less than 1 have done, on the contrary the 
 just estimation of its merits is ascertained by the offer from a person 
 who does not know the original; yet i find myself daily so much 
 poorer, that I do not foresee when I can pay for it, and 1 am already 
 too much obliged to you to avail myself in any degree of your kind- 
 ness to me : — perhaps Mr. Christian might accept my resignation of 
 it and pay for it, and give me the option of repurchasing if the im- 
 probable event of my increase of means shall enable me to recover 
 what I no^v lose with regret; but I can make no condition, and 1 
 leave the full and entire disposal of it to you ; and I am, 
 
 “ Dear Sir, with great regard, 
 
 “ Your obliged friend and sen ant, 
 
 “C. F. Greville.” 
 
 February 25th, 8 788. 
 
 Mr. Curwen acceded to the terms, on the condition that Mr. 
 Romney would undertake at some convenient opportunity to paint 
 another picture to be ready to replace the Spinstress ; and Mr. Gre- 
 ville then wrote as follows. 
 
 b B 
 
186 
 
 To George Romney, Esq. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ You may suppose that 1 consider the resolution which you had 
 taken about the Spinstress as a nattering mark of your friendship and 
 disinterestedness. — This opportunity was not wanting to give me ex- 
 perience of your liberal mind; but I could not with satisfaction to 
 myself repeatedly benefit by your sacrifices, and I wrote to Mr. 
 Christian that I might multiply the objects of expectation from better 
 times by keeping hold of the Spinstress without postponing the pay- 
 ment. — Mr. Christian consents to take the Spinstress and pay for it, 
 and engages to return it to me on demand, and on repayment of the 
 price he pays you ; and also Mr. Christian joins a condition, which 
 is proof of his deserving the temporary possession of the Spinstress ; 
 that Mr. Romney, at some convenient time, will replace the Spins- 
 tress, when he shall lose her, by another painting'. — I dare say this 
 arrangement will be agreeable to you. I i is satisfactory to me, and 
 although in this instance the intended sacrifice will not be made, be as- 
 sured 1 feel my obligation to you, as sincerely as if your intentions 
 bad been executed ; 
 
 “And 1 remain, your obliged friend and servant, 
 
 “C. F. Greville.” 
 
 1 have thought it proper to insert these letters, both to shew under 
 what circumstances the Spinstress came in to the possession of Mr. 
 Curwen, so honourable to all the parties concerned; and also to con- 
 firm my former observations respecting the feelings and conduct of 
 Mr. Greville in parting with Mrs, Hart. 
 
 When Mr. Romney visited Earthamin the autumn of 1782, he must 
 have felt more than usual gratification in the elegant society of some 
 
187 
 
 accomplished females whom he met there. It was then, and there, 
 that he first painted the portrait of Miss Seward, who was one of the par- 
 ty. The following- copies of verses, dictated by gratified feelings, good 
 humour, and social hilarity, shew at once the pleasantry and character 
 of the company. They are all in the manuscript of Miss Seward ; the 
 two former, however, are evidently the productions of Mr. 1 1 ay ley’s 
 muse, and may be ranked among the best of his sportive effusions. 
 Those by Miss Seward have already been before the public, with se- 
 veral alterations : 1 have deemed it proper, however, to insert them 
 here in their original state, as being more of an extemporary cha- 
 racter. 
 
 S () N N E T, 
 
 To Julia on the morning of her departure. 
 
 “ Farewell dear visitant ! again farewell ! 
 
 Friendship reluctant yields the radient guest, 
 
 Who shed new splendour on the sylvan cell, 
 
 Who gave to pleasure’s cup a richer zest. 
 
 Still let thy bard, tho’ in this mom deprest, 
 
 Strike on his sadden’d lyre one kind adieu, 
 
 And fondly bid the f ugitive be blest 
 With vows of amity, tho’ plaintive, true ! 
 
 0 blest be every path thy feet pursue, 
 
 And blest these spirit soothing arts, whose pow er 
 Fix thee forever in affection’s view 
 To rob of half its pain the parting hour; 
 
 Thy form we keep by Romney’s soft controul, 
 
 And in thy living verse possess thy soul. 
 
188 
 
 To Miss Seward, on her rhino at Eartham in the 
 variable Weather of August, 1782 . 
 
 “ Whence are these storms ? an angry poet cried, 
 
 Who saw his shady summer haunts defaced, 
 
 Saw o’er his shatter’d grove, black whirlwinds ride, 
 
 And deeply mourn’d the unseasonable waste. 
 
 He spoke, and (Eolus uprear’d his head. 
 
 Half his huge form, round which dark clouds were driven. 
 Rising from Ocean’s broad and billowy bed. 
 
 Fill’d up the vast expanse from earth to heaven. 
 
 As his fierce eye survey’d the rough profound, 
 
 From the stern God the voice of anger broke, 
 
 Air, earth, and sea reverberate the sound, 
 
 And shrinking nature shudder’d as he spoke : 
 
 “ Know thou, vain bard, within thy mansion dwells 
 The wondrous source of all this wild uproar, 
 
 Thence round my cave the din of discord swells, 
 
 And I my rebel offspring rule no more. 
 
 To own my laws my madd’ming sons refuse. 
 
 All, all are deaf to my paternal power, 
 
 Struggling alike to kiss that vagrant Muse, 
 
 Who deigns to visit thy sequester’d bower. 
 
189 
 
 Rough Boreas, us’d in these still months to sleep, 
 Starts from his cell, in passion’s wild alarms, 
 
 While dripping Auster rushes from the deep 
 To snatch the fair-one from his brother’s arms. 
 
 Bach others fond ambition to destroy 
 Alike they struggle, merciless as death; 
 
 See my young Zephyr, nature’s tender joy, 
 Encounter Eurus with contentious breath ! 
 
 Cease my rash sons, this cruel war to wage, 
 
 Tho’ tempting beauty gave your conflict birth, 
 
 Lest Famine waken’d by your frantic rage, 
 
 Stalk in fell triumph o’er the blasted earth. 
 
 See shivering mortals mourn th’ inverted year, 
 While Ceres weeps, her golden pride deprest, 
 
 If ye no longer nature’s laws revere, 
 
 Yet mildly listen to your sire’s request. 
 
 Let each in order taste the tempting bliss, 
 
 For which these mutual wounds ye vainly bear, 
 
 Each unmolested take one precious kiss, 
 
 And freely clasp this phrenzy-kindling fair.” 
 
 He paus’d : — black Boreas eldest of his race, 
 Whose stormy passion the chill maiden shocks, 
 
 Binds her reluctant in his strong embrace, 
 
 And sports licentious in her auburne locks. 
 
190 
 
 Eurus succeeds ; of less disgusting- mien. 
 
 Yet mad the trembling fair-one to assail, 
 
 Beneath his pressure, more intensely keen, 
 
 The wounded ruby of her lip grows pale. 
 
 Next with mild charms, and less tumultuous love. 
 By melting Auster see the nymph carest ; 
 
 He with the softness of the murm’ring dove 
 Waves his moist pinions o’er her softer breast. 
 
 Now, lively Zephyr, the sweet Muse is thine, 
 
 O long embrace her in our laughing skies ! 
 
 And round her bid this joyous landscape shine, 
 Rich as her verse, and radient as her eyes ! 
 
 Miss Seward’s verses on leaving Earth am. 
 
 September 4th, 1782. 
 
 “ Tomorrow’s dawn must bring th’ unwelcome hour, 
 
 When my reluctant spirit's fond farewell 
 Shall mourn in sighs through Eartham’s beauteous bower. 
 
 The vanish’d pleasures of the sylvan cell. 
 
 1'he torpid gloom of future days to cliace, 
 
 On these dear scenes the tender thought shall dwell, 
 
 And memory restore each lovely grace 
 
 That decks their radient hill or duskv dell. 
 
191 
 
 The fall luxuriance of yon sloping wood 
 
 Circling' the golden mead with pomp of shade ; 
 
 And, where soft comfort’s downy pinions brood, 
 The village bosom’d in the blooming glade. 
 
 I’he path umbrageous up the steepy side 
 Of this sweet mount, where varied beauty glows 
 
 While, in bold curves the forest’s lofty pride, 
 
 Dark on tli’ opposing lull’s high summit, flows. 
 
 Then as the grassy eminence ascends, 
 
 T he champaign glories bursting on the sight, 
 
 Where far and wide the dazzling vale extends 
 Clos’d by the distant main that rolls in light. 
 
 Groves half as fair as these may meet my eye, 
 
 Thy bowers, O Litchfield, lovely scenes afford ; 
 
 But ah ! what keen regrets shall wake the sigh 
 To miss the pleasures of the Haylean board ! 
 
 Where, as his pencil, Romney’s soul sublime 
 (Rows with bold lines, original and strong; 
 
 While Fanny’s* lays and kindred spirit chime 
 With fair Fliza’sf wit, and sparkling song. 
 
 To the dear Bard, our master spring of joy, 
 
 1 low shall 1 grateful breathe the soft farewell ? 
 
 \ et long thy generous kindness shall employ 
 I he heart it gladden’d in thy sylvan cell. 
 
 * Miss Heron, of Portsmouth, f Mrs. Hayky. 
 
192 
 
 In the Autumn of this year (1 782) he began his own portrait, which 
 he afterwards gave to Mr. Hayley; who did not allow him to finish 
 it, hut hurried it off to Eartham without delay. The head, however, 
 is perfect, hut the rest of the figure, which could not he completed 
 without a model, remains in statu quo. Had it, however, been suf- 
 fered to remain in Cavendish Square sometime longer, an opportu- 
 nity would have occurred when it might have been finished ; — but 
 Mr. Hayley preferred the bird in hand. 
 
 When a painter paints himself, he must necessarily be represented 
 as looking attentively ; but in this picture Mr. Romney appears, also, 
 in a serious and thoughtful mood, as if he felt himself in the solemn 
 act of consigning to posterity a memorial of his personal form and 
 existence. It is an uncommonly fine head, extremely like, and full 
 of character ; any physiognomist, who saw it, would say ; “ that is 
 the head of a man of genius;” and if he was a connoiseur, would 
 add ; 65 and he that painted it, must also have been one of the high- 
 est class.” He was forty eight, when he painted it. 
 
 Some serious reflections in conte mplating this portrait, gave birth 
 to the follow ing Sonnet, which being expressive of my feelings I have 
 presumed to insert here. 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 To my Father’s Portrait, fainted by himself. 
 
 Semblance exact of Him, who erst had skill 
 To stay the wasting hand of time, and save 
 The living form of life, while in the grave 
 The sad remains their destin’d lot fulfil — 
 
193 
 
 When I behold thee thus, unchanged still, 
 
 In musing mood, and with an aspect grave, 
 
 I could almost with pleasing rapture rave 
 At the fond sight; till sad reflections fill 
 My soul with grief. 0 hours of past delight 
 For ever gone ! When I beheld his hand 
 Dash on the canvass with creative might 
 Visions of fancy, as by magic wand ! 
 
 Picture, nine lustrums now have quickly passed by 
 Since first I saw thee thus — Alas ! how chang’d am I ! 
 
 He painted about this time, (1783,) the two Miss Thurlows. 
 
 Lady Brownlow and Master Cust. 
 
 Lady Georgiana Smith and child. 
 
 The two Miss Kents, daughters of Sir Charles Kent, 
 
 Fhe Earl of Derby, whole-length, with a horse ; for Mr. Ste- 
 venson. 
 
 And a half-length portrait of Gibbon, for Mr. Hayley. This is a 
 very line picture, but I remember being dissatisfied with what l 
 thought savoured of affectation — a viciousness in design into which 
 Mr. Romney’s correct feeling never suffered him to be seduced — it 
 was, the pointing of the finger ; which S endeavoured to account for 
 by attributing it to a peculiar habit of the sitter. 1 have since, how- 
 ever, met with a passage in Dante, which has entirely satisfied me 
 with respect to the propriety of that action. 
 
 “Ed ora attendi qui, e drizzo 1 dito*.” 
 
 “ * Gesto die dimostra che Virgilio voleva dire qualche notabile 
 
 cosa.” 
 
 Dell’ Inferno. — Cant 10. 
 
 c c 
 
194 
 
 This year, also, he painted the portraits of Lord Chatham and Mr. 
 Pitt, kit-cat size ; the first, if not both, for the Reverend Mr. Wilson, 
 Lord Chatham’s tutor. The latter remained many years in his gal- 
 lery with the head only finished. It was the finest head ever painted 
 of Pitt, both for strength of character, and individual similitude. It 
 was nearly a front face, which rendered it more difficult to catch the 
 likeness; but when taken, made it more pleasing-; as the angulari- 
 ties, which appeared in his profile, and of which the caricaturists used 
 frequently to avail themselves, were thus softened down. It had, 
 also, that erect dignity, which distinguished his person. The origi- 
 nal price was thirty guineas : Mr. Romney received fifty pounds for 
 it, but from whom I do not know. A very indifferent mezzotinto 
 print, in which Mr. Pitt was represented half-length, in the robes of 
 the Chancellor of the Exchequer, w as taken from this head, by Jones. 
 I am sony to say that this bad engraver was too much privileged by 
 Mr. Romney in making prints from his pictures. He w T as, however, 
 strongly patronized by George Stevens, the Shakspeare editor ; and 
 Mr. Romney was unwilling to give offence by any refusal. 
 
 In 1 784 he painted the portrait of David Hartley, Minister Pleni- 
 potentiary for settling the terms of peace with America. I notice 
 this picture on account of its excellence. Though the canvass is only 
 half-length, yet, as he is represented sitting, the whole person is 
 nearly introduced. He fronts the spectator, at whom he looks 
 through his spectacles. There is great strength and precision in 
 the character of the head, which imply correct similitude ; and 
 much sober dignity in the attitude altogether : the dress, also, is 
 painted in a masterly style, with great facility and freedom of pen- 
 ciling-. 
 
 C5 
 
195 
 
 About iliis time, also, he painted a half-length portrait of Mrs. Russel 
 with her child, (the late wife of the present Sir Henry.) The child, 
 as far as I recollect, w as held on a table, facing a looking-glass, and 
 its portrait reflected from the mirror. Its position with respect to the 
 glass, was not unlike that of the portrait of Caravaggio painted by 
 himself; I do not, however, think that Mr. Romney was aware of 
 this similitude ; otherw ise, he would have mentioned it to me when 
 I expressed my approbation of the idea. 
 
 The Right Reverend Doctor Barrington, Bishop of Salisbury ; 
 half-length ; in the robes of the garter. 
 
 Doctor Farmer, master of Emauuel College, Cambridge; three- 
 quarters. 
 
 In 1 785 he painted a charming half-length portrait of a Mrs. Smith, 
 in the character of a Wood-Nymph, for Sir Simeon Stuart. The 
 lady, six years after, (then called Mrs. Selby,) paid the remaining 
 price and received the picture. I mention these particulars, in hopes 
 that it may be traced and identified. She w as represented sitting on 
 the ground, and playing on a flageolet ; her hair hung beautifully 
 over her forehead in spiral ringlets, and her drapery w as of a pink 
 colour, simple and elegant, after the Grecian style. 
 
 I hough it was the fashion during the greatest part of Mr. Rom- 
 ney s practice, lor ladies to wear high head dresses, and stifl long- 
 waisted stays ; yet, whenever he had an opportunity, and the style 
 and disposition of the drapery were left to his own taste, he rid him- 
 self of those ungraceful incumbrances, and returned to nature and 
 truth. — His picture of Cassandra, in the Shakspeare Gallery, influ- 
 enced the public taste, and was instrumental in expelling* from the 
 empire of fashion, the long and shapeless waist ; and in introducing 
 
196 
 
 a more simple and graceful mode of dress, approaching nearer to 
 the Grecian. The succeeding painters have enjoyed all the advan- 
 tage of this reform in female attire, which gives to their portraits 
 much elegance, without their being obliged to have recourse to fancy 
 designs; whereas many of the finest pictures, both by Sir Joshua, 
 and Mr. Romney, are disfigured by the preposterous fashions of the 
 day. 
 
 This year he painted the portrait of Miss Shakespear, which has 
 already been mentioned. While she was his sitter, he received the 
 following verses by the penny-post ; evidently written by an admirer 
 of that beautiful lady. 
 
 To Mr. Romney. 
 
 “ How great thy art, O Romney, to portray 
 Nature’s fail- form, — to catch the subtle ray 
 That plays in beauty’s eye — to give a grace 
 To every feature of the female face ! 
 
 But when a Shakespear’ s seated in thy Chair, 
 
 As angels lovely, and as Venus fair ; 
 
 When with the charms of beauty are combin’d 
 The rare endowments of a virtuous mind ; 
 
 Vain are thy efforts, vain thy cunning art, 
 
 To trace the virtues which adorn her heart. 
 
 Sweet smiles and dimples may obey thy will, 
 
 But mental graces are beyond thy skill.” 
 
 October 1 7th, 1785. * * U. B. 
 
 I he following excellent verses, seem to have been written about 
 this time, or sooner, and one might suppose, from the initials in the 
 
197 
 
 signature, that they were the production of Mr. Richard Paine 
 Knight’s elegant pen. 
 
 To G. Romney, Esq. R. A. 
 
 “ Thy pictures raise no doubt when brought to view, 
 
 At once they’re known, and seem to know us too. 
 Transcendent artist ! how complete thy skill ! 
 
 Thy power to act is equal to thy will. 
 
 Nature and art in thee alike contend 
 Not to oppose each other, but befriend; 
 
 For what thy Fancy has with Fire design’d, 
 
 [s by thy skill both temper’d and refin’d ; 
 
 As in thy pictures light consents with shade, 
 
 And each to other is subservient made ; 
 
 Judgment and genius so concur in thee 
 And both unite in perfect harmony.” 
 
 R. K. 
 
 The following Sonnet bears the stamp of Mr. 
 
 IIayley’s mint. 
 
 “ /Etherial Beings! who benignly bright, 
 
 In finest toil the hand of skill inspire, 
 
 And by the impulse of celestial fire, 
 
 (When fervent genius with aspiring (light 
 Calls forth new forms, to fascinate the sight, 
 f irm as fixt love, or soft as young desire,) 
 
 Kindly forbid the high strained nerve to tire, 
 
 Making the labour of creation light : 
 
 Here round your favourite Romney fondly sport! 
 
 Inspirit here the artist and the friend ; 
 
198 
 
 While infancy’s sweet charms his pencil court, 
 
 On his rich canvass all attractions blend ! 
 
 Let his rare powers of mind and heart combine, 
 
 Exquisite art and amity divine ! ” 
 
 In 1785 he painted another three-quarters portrait of Edmund 
 Burke ; but for whom I do not know. 
 
 Mrs. Boughton House and child; whole-length. 
 
 Lady Belgony and Master Belgony ; kit-cat. 
 
 Mrs. Ford and child; half-length; for Governor Johnstone. 
 
 Mrs. and Miss Beresford ; half-length. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Raikes and child ; half-length. 
 
 It is not easy to give a precise date to fancy subjects, because they 
 were generally painted at stolen intervals ; but the two pictures of 
 The Seamstress, and Absence, were painted about tins period ; the 
 former was sold to Admiral Vernon, and the other remains with me; 
 both were distinguished by a simple and unaffected grace. 
 
 In 1 78(1 he painted the two sons of Mr. Wnbraham Bootle. 
 
 Mrs. Smith and child, whole-length ; sent to Carolina. 
 
 T he Ladies Caroline and Elizabeth Spencer, daughters of the 
 Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 A half-length portrait of Dr. Law, Bishop of Carlisle ; for his son 
 Mr. Edward Law (Lord Ellenborough.) This w as a remarkably line 
 picture, in which the learned and venerable prelate was represented 
 without his robes. Mr. Romney had painted tw o former portraits of 
 his lordship; one for Sir Thomas Rumbold, in 1777, and the other in 
 1 783, for hi s son Dr. John Law, Bishop of Clonfort. It may be men- 
 tioned here for the honour of Lancashire, that Dr. Law was born at 
 
199 
 
 Buck crag-, in Cartmel, about fifteen miles from Mr. Romney’s birth 
 place: most likely this circumstance would be a pleasing source of 
 conversation during the sittings, and revive many agreeable associ- 
 ations, which would give complacency to the sitter, and energy to the 
 painter. 
 
 The portrait of Mrs. Jordan in the character of the Country Girl; 
 bought bv the Duke of Clarence. 
 
 ‘‘D <*■ 
 
 In 1787 he painted a half- whole-length portrait of Bishop Watson. 
 The delightful conversational talents of this learned divine must have 
 given,! have no doubt, an impulse to the genius of the painter; for cer- 
 tainly a liner portrait w as never produced : it was, indeed, perfect in 
 every respect. It had likewise, the advantage of being painted 
 w ithout the formal robes of a Bishop, which are any tiling but pictu- 
 resque. The Bishop and Mr. Romney were nearly of the same age. 
 and came from the same neighbourhood. 
 
 Mrs. Aiuslie and child; three-quarters. 
 
 Mrs. Billington, half-length; now in my possession. 
 
 In 1788 he painted a half-length portrait of Mrs. Clements, which 
 was sent to Dublin. I mention it here, on account of a peculiarity 
 which I do not remember to have observed in any other of his pic- 
 tures : — it was painted in a beautiful pearly tone. 
 
 Mrs. Arden and child, half-length. 
 
 A three-quarters portrait of the Reverend Doctor Parr, the celebra- 
 ted scholar and controversialist, in his Doctor’s gown. 
 
 Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cumberland; half-length. 
 
 The sons of Sir George Winn ; half- whole-length. 
 
 Doctor Moore, Archbishop of Canterbury ; half-length. 
 
200 
 
 The Reverend John Westley, the celebrated preacher; three-quar- 
 ters; for Mrs. Tyghe and sent to Ireland. 
 
 The portrait of Miss Wallis in the character of Mirth and Melan- 
 choly. Melancholy is represented near the entrance of a gloomy 
 cell, urged with gentle force by her sister Mirth to join a joyous 
 | tarty dancing 1 round a maypole on a distant hill — this picture re- 
 mains with me. 
 
 The three children of Mr. Gosling, in one piece. 
 
 The Spaniel dog of the Duchess of Richmond, already mentioned. 
 
 To George Romney, Esq. 
 impromptu. 
 
 “ Thou, who hast given a portion of those hours 
 That genius crowns with all her lavish powers. 
 
 Given them the heart of failing age to warm 
 By the wish’d semblance of a daughter’s form, 
 
 Accept, the sole reward thy efforts sought, 
 
 Proof of the lively pleasure it has brought. 
 
 Creative efforts ! they in living hues. 
 
 Fix the illusive likeness, and diffuse 
 
 O’er all the breathing form, and glowing face, 
 
 With art’s last happiness, the nameless grace ; 
 
 Grace, that perchance coy nature’s niggard boon 
 Refus’d in youth’s fresh morn, or ripen’d noon. 
 
 Long since within my father’s feeble breast 
 Life’s anxious train of wishes sank to rest ; 
 
 Yet one remain’d, one fond wish linger’d still ; — 
 
 The promis’d gift of thy consummate skill. 
 
 “ O my Belov’d,” how often would he say, 
 
 “ Fast as my worn existence fleets away, 
 
201 
 
 Life’s prov’d uncertainty to blooming- health, 
 
 May rob my soul of all its earthly wealth ; 
 
 Childless I yet to my late grave may go, 
 
 Where tears that mourn thy loss shall only cease to flow. 
 ’Twerc comfort still to know, should heaven ordain 
 My helpless years to feel so sharp a pain. 
 
 Something* may yet to my dim eyes appear, 
 
 That shall that look, that smile of comfort wear, 
 
 With which thou com’st to cheer through the long day 
 Decrepit age amid its lorn decay.” 
 
 The shades of yesternight were softly drawn 
 Wide o’er these blooming bowers and circling lawn, 
 The full of days his downy pillow prest, 
 
 In the soft slumber of an infant’s rest. 
 
 Two wondrous youths, who strike the Delian lyre, 
 Ere manhood’s hour, with all the poet’s fire, 
 
 Sat by thy friend in luxury of praise, 
 
 A raptur’d descant on Hayleyan lays ; 
 
 When sudden thro’ the swiftly open’d door 
 The long wish’d prize a smiling servant bore. 
 
 With eager eyes the youthful poets hail 
 The heav’d dismission of each tardy nail, 
 
 Fill to the sight thy breathing canvass shone 
 And made the magic of thy pencil known. 
 
 At early morn to the dear couch i creep 
 And cliace with lenient voice a father’s sleep, 
 
 Then near his pillow draw his heart’s desire ; — 
 
 Mark his pale cheek light ting’d by pleasure’s fire, 
 
 D D 
 
202 
 
 Enjoy his warm apostrophe to thee, 
 
 And his now seldom tear of ecstasy. 
 
 Illustrious Romney ! whose expansive heart 
 Glows the blest rival of thy perfect art ; 
 
 That art is as a Sun, and shines serene 
 On the chill surface of a wintry scene ; 
 
 Pale waning life smiles in its cheering ray 
 And I to its kind light a Brahmin’s homage pay.” 
 
 “ Anna Seward.” 
 
 Lichfield, May 31st, 1788. 
 
 “The above verses have faintly, and with little happiness expressed 
 my father’s sense, and my own, of the very great obligation you have 
 conferred upon us : neither verse nor prose can express how affecti- 
 onately we shall always be, 
 
 “ My dear Mr. Romney, 
 
 “ Your devoted admirers and grateful friends, 
 
 “Thomas and Anna Seward.” 
 
 “ Every body here, who, as yet, have seen the picture, think it still 
 more pleasing- than the first, and more like me from having that 
 smile, which they say is habitual to my countenance — also from the 
 hail- being more gracefully disposed— of the likeness I must leave 
 other people to judge — but of the exquisite excellence as a portrait, 
 supposing 1 knew nothing of the original, 1 cannot but be conscious. 
 While we expected this treasure of genius, the ensuing verse, in one 
 of Shenstone’s ever beautiful, though now neglected elegies, used 
 often to occur to me.” 
 
203 
 
 “ And you, ye works of art, allur’d mine eye 
 The breathing* picture, and the living- stone ; 
 
 Tho’ gold, tho’ splendour, heaven and fate deny, 
 
 Yet may 1 call one Titian stroke my own ! ” 
 
 “Once more adieu.’ 
 
 From Mr. Romney’s acquaintance with the elder Flaxman, he had 
 frequent opportunities of observing the promising talents of his son, and 
 said, and did every thing in his power to fan the growing enthusiasm 
 of the young sculptor, whose designs on paper were even then, spi- 
 rited and full of gusto. Mr. Romney saw with a prophet’s eye his 
 future eminence, and with this conviction upon his mind, felt an un- 
 common interest in his success. Having himself, though unfortu- 
 nately late in life, experienced the great advantage to be derived 
 from studying the works of the ancient Greek sculptors, and also 
 those of Michael Angelo ; he recommended to the young sculptor, by 
 all means to visit Italy, and to fix himself in Rome for a length of 
 time, where he might enjoy every facility of study, and where every 
 thing that was great, or graceful in art, would be accessible to his 
 genius : he did more — lie offered to be useful to him in a pecuniary 
 light, or in any way that might promote his professional views. 
 
 The two following letters, besides bearing testimony to the moral 
 worth ol Mr. Flaxman, and justifying the partiality of Mr. Romney; 
 will convey to the liberal and enlightened reader a high degree of 
 gratification, from their unaffected and pleasing style, the grateful 
 feeling that pervades them, and from the interesting information 
 which they communicate, both with respect to that celebrated sculp- 
 tor himself, and concerning works of art in general. 
 
204 
 
 Rome, May 25th, 1788. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Although I have not written to you before this time, you have 
 been no less present to my thoughts than when I was in England ; 
 and if you will permit me to use so familiar an expression, 1 can sav 
 with truth, my dear friend Romney will always occupy one of the first 
 places in my mind, as well for his talents and virtues, as for the 
 obligations I am under to him. I hope you will not doubt what 1 
 say, and yet I think you will excuse me for not writing before, con- 
 sidering where 1 am, and how I have been employed ; for, since I 
 have been in Italy, the first three months was spent in seeing works of 
 art, and making a few drawings ; and since that time, in settling my- 
 self in lodgings in the Piazza di Spagna, where Clarisseau formerly 
 lived, in Cunego’s house, getting a study to work in, and in arranging 
 my pursuits. I am at present making a copy in clay of the has relief 
 on the Borghese vase, the figures one foot high, for Mr. Knight, who 
 I am sure will be happy to shew it to you, when I send it to England. 
 I am besides making designs and models for a group of my own 
 composition, the subjects of these sketches are various; in the mean 
 time I study ■•nature, and the fine forms of the Antique. Excuse my 
 vanity for telling you my drawings have surprised some of the best 
 English artists here, who thought they were copied from the stories 
 on Greek vases. S am also copying some drawings from the frieze 
 in the temple of Minerva at Athens. Now you will expect some 
 slight account of what I have seen. I have been at Pcestum 
 
 and seen the three fine temples of the ancient Doric order in that 
 city ; they are in better preservation than any ancient temple in 
 Rome, except the Pantheon. The idea of each of these buildings 
 is so simple, the larger parts so truly great, the small members 
 done with so much feeling and delicacy that my mind was filled 
 
205 
 
 with the sublime of architecture. If you have not seen this place 
 the sketch beneath will convey an idea of the first view I had of 
 it ; the wall of the city is still entire, and over one of the gates 
 is the figure of a 
 
 #V>\. 
 
 Syren in has relief ; the age of this place is the same with the 
 Etruscan vases in the museum, and they are both the works of 
 Greek colonies, who settled on this coast of Italy. The museum 
 of Portici has had no great things added to it since you was 
 in Italy. I will be more particular in the description of what 
 I saw in this neighbourhood when we meet, when I will also 
 shew you sketches from some of the principal buildings at Pom- 
 pcia. You will naturally suppose how much 1 was wrapt in 
 fancy when 1 saw the Phlegrean plains, where the giants were 
 said to be overthrown by the thunder of Jupiter ; the island of the 
 Syrens; the situations of Herculaneum and Pompeia, with the Elysian 
 fields at one view ; and walked on the same ground where Homer, 
 Plato, and Pythagoras had been ; as well as those venerable profes- 
 sors of the arts of design, whose steps 1 humbly endeavour to follow. 
 But I must now tell you the news of Home, which is most interesting. 
 Mr. Hawkins is returned to Home from his tour of Greece; he is an 
 honour to mankind in great qualities, and the most valuable acquired 
 accomplishments ; he informs me, a French artist whom he was ac- 
 
206 
 
 quainted with at Athens, has moulded the frieze of the temple of 
 Minerva in that city, and sent them to Paris, where they are arrived 
 I believe by this time ; they are to be placed in the Royal Academy. 
 This is an invaluable acquisition to all the northern part of Europe. 
 There is a report that the artist who made these casts, will also bring’ 
 casts of the finest pieces with him to this city in his return to France. 
 I am concerned to tell you that the noble group of the Toro went to 
 Naples about three weeks ago, and the Duke of Tuscany is removing 
 all the statues, granite basons, and the obelisk from the gardens of 
 the Villa Medicis to Florence ; but to make some amends for these 
 losses the Pope is continually adding some valuable piece of art to his 
 museum. It is not possible in the compass of a letter to give any 
 account of particulars, I can only observe that in rooms built of fine ar- 
 chitecture, and the richest marbles, with pavements of the finest Mosa- 
 ics with figures historical, theatrical, (fee., all of antique workmanship, 
 here are to be seen, groups, statues, busts, bas reliefs, and therms 
 innumerable, of the most wonderful productions of art, together with 
 many animals, and fragments of animals broken from statues, the 
 size of nature ; as heads of bulls, cows, horses, camels, elks, rhino- 
 ceroses, mules, asses, and whole statues of lions, goats, and other in- 
 ferior animals, which give an unlucky contradiction to those wise 
 connoisseurs, who assert that the ancients did not represent animals 
 well ; for these are every thing but alive. You have seen the Etrus- 
 can vases and the other curiosities of this museum. I must mention 
 excellent news for the arts in England. Colonel Campbell is return- 
 ing, and brings with him to London three hundred Etruscan vases, 
 many adorned with the finest historical paintings; and a collection 
 of all the plaister casts from the finest antiques he could purchase in 
 Italy. You know by this time Sir Richard Worsley is returned with 
 several valuable bas reliefs he got in Greece, and engravings as well 
 
207 
 
 ns the original drawings by Pars of the frieze of the temple of Minerva 
 at Athens. I could say much concerning the manner my mind has 
 been affected by the line things \ have seen here, but I hope this will 
 be better explained by my future works. Permit me now to hope 
 you, Mr. Hayley, and Mr. Long have been in perfect health since 1 
 left England; my Nancy and myself talk of you continually, and re- 
 member how much we are obliged for such rare friends. I shall 
 write to Mr. Hayley soon, and 5 am sorry I cannot write to all my 
 friends as much as I wish : but I find myself more and more im- 
 mersed every day in such studies as are necessary to make me a 
 good artist. Pray permit me to beg of you when you see my Father 
 to give my duty to him and my Mother, and love to my Sister ; tell 
 him I have wrote to him lately, and I will write again before it’s long. 
 Pray accept the best wishes of my Nancy and myself, and believe 
 me, with all gratitude lor your several instances of friendship, to 
 remain, 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your most obliged and faithful servant, 
 
 “John Flax man, J i nr. ” 
 
 “ Letters are directed to me, to the care of Mr. Jenkins, Home, 
 but I know how your time is engaged, and do not expect an answer.” 
 
 Rome, April loth, 17110. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ 1 take the advantage of Mr. Dunce’s return to England, to repeat 
 my thanks to you for the many singular instances of friendship I have 
 received from your kindness; and I hope you will believe whatever 
 distance of time or place may separate us, they can never diminish 
 my high respect for your character, and gratitude for your good of- 
 
208 
 
 fices ; and believe me I am equally solicitous for your happiness in 
 all particulars as if I was present to be a sharer in it. Most likely 
 you will have heard before this time that my return to my own coun- 
 try will be delayed two years and a half longer than I intended ; but 
 in order that you may not be misinformed concerning the cause of 
 my stay, I will mention some of the particulars. I had settled my 
 affairs for my departure from Home, I had given orders for packing 
 cases to be made for the works 1 have done here, and I had received 
 earnest from the coachman who was to carry us to Lyons, as you know 
 is the custom of this country ; and in order that the time of seeing 
 my dear friends and country might not be prolonged, I refused to 
 execute a bust in marble for one gentleman and a marble has relief 
 lor another. Whilst ! w as thus rejoicing with my Nancy in the near 
 approach of the time, w hich would bring us back to people w hom 
 we loved so much ; all our schemes were overset in the following 
 manner. One morning Lord Bristol called to see what I have done 
 here, and ordered me to carve in marble for him, a has relief I have 
 modelled here, between eight and nine feet, and near live feet high ; 
 representing Amphion and Zethus delivering their mother Antiope 
 from the fury of Dirce and Lycus : it is my own composition, taken 
 from a different point of time, but the same story as the group of the 
 l oro Farnese, which you well know. I refused this work notwith- 
 standing* the price would have been live hundred guineas, and informed 
 his lordship 1 could not possibly remain longer here, unless 1 should 
 be employed to execute a work that might establish my reputation 
 as a sculptor. His lordship applauded my resolution, and immedi- 
 ately ordered me to execute a group in marble, the figures as large 
 as the Gladiator, from a sketch in clay which 1 had made; the sub- 
 ject of w hich is, the Madness of Athamas, in w hich he believes his 
 wile Ino to be a tigress, and her children her whelps; when after 
 
209 
 
 coursing- them round the hall, he seizes the youngest from its mo- 
 ther’s breast, and throws it on the ground. The story is in Ovid’s 
 Metamorphosis, and the group consists of Athamas, Ino, and two 
 small children. Mr. Bunce, the gentleman who does me the favour 
 to present this letter, was my most esteemed friend in Home, both for 
 the excellence of his moral character, and his abilities in architecture ; 
 he was present when that noble patron of arts, the generous Lord 
 Bristol gave me a draft in writing for the payment of my work, which 
 S am to receive as f may have occasion for it ; and also when his 
 lordship promised me every assistance and encouragement that I can 
 possibly want. As my friend Mr. Bunce was present on this occa- 
 sion, he can inform you of all the particulars relating to that tran- 
 saction, as well as every other particular relating to me and my dear 
 Nancy, who upon this occasion has behaved with the most heroic vir- 
 tue ; for when I consulted her concerning whether I should accept 
 this commission, and whether, having- settled her mind to return to 
 England, she should not he unhappy to remain longer here ? She 
 answered, J should he my own enemy if I refused the noblest work 
 that could he offered to a sculptor, and that she should accommodate 
 her mind to my fortune. Forgive my vanity in telling you that I was 
 particularly recommended in this work to Lord Bristol by Mr. Ca- 
 nova, who has done the monuments of two Popes, and other excel- 
 lent works, and is esteemed here the best sculptor in Europe. Pray 
 remember me in the most grateful and affectionate manner to Mr. 
 Long, and Mr. Hayley : 1 lately troubled those gentlemen with let- 
 ters, and 1 hope they have received them. You will forgive me for 
 not writing oftener and better; you know how much the studies of an 
 artist ought to engage his mind. 
 
 E E 
 
210 
 
 “ My Nancy continually unites with me in earnest wishes for your 
 prosperity and happiness in all things ; and I remain, 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “Your most obliged 
 
 “ And faithful servant, 
 
 “John Flaxman.” 
 
 As further proofs of Mr. Romney’s liberality and disinterestedness 
 in the exercise of his profession, 1 feel myself justified in inserting 
 the two following- letters from the Honourable Charles Greville. 
 
 “ My dear Sir, 
 
 “ I have been desired to enquire if you have had any payment for 
 the pictures sent to Naples ; I am sure it is high time that there should 
 he some ; if you will be so good as to send me a memorandum of 
 what is due, I will make Sir William Hamilton’s agent pay you ; and 
 f will also discharge my share. — Sir William made me a present of 
 his portrait, and ] gave him mine, which is now at Naples; and I 
 have kept only the Head with a Straw Hat from Emma. You will 
 therefore include in Sir William’s note, his portrait and all the pic- 
 tures sent to Naples, except my portrait, which with the Straw Hat, 
 you will charge to me. I wish I could have completed all my plans, 
 T should not restrict myself to two of your works ; and as I have spe- 
 culated deeply to be proprietor of a house, ami cannot look to the 
 occupation of it above a year, after which I shall be obliged to let it, 
 f shall beg to have Sir William Hamilton’s picture to hangup. 1 
 shall be happy to see you in my new habitation, which I hope to 
 clear of workmen in a fortnight. I shall send my servant, with your 
 leave, to prove the deep cellar in which you kindly let me deposit some 
 wine from Portman Square. Iff am not more lucky than in my 
 
211 
 
 other cellar, I shall begin house-keeping with a very reduced stock, 
 as very little has proved good ; probably owing to the unequal tem- 
 perature of the air, from which I think your cellar is safe. 
 
 “ I heard last week from Mrs. Hart, she desired me to tell you that 
 she hoped to captivate you by her voice next spring, and that few 
 things interest her more than the remembrance which you and Mr. 
 Hayley honour her with. 
 
 “ Believe me, dear Sir, with real esteem, 
 
 “ Your obliged and faithful servant, 
 
 “C. J. Greville.” 
 
 Oxford Street, Augt. 8th, 1 788. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I enclose an order for one hundred pounds, and have informed 
 Sir William of the very disinterested and friendly part you chose to 
 act in the settling his account; as to myself, the portraits which in 
 themselves are interesting to me, become more so, from the manner 
 in which you deposit them with me, and I shall value them as osten- 
 sible marks of your friendship; and shall not be less mindful of other 
 instances of your attention and kindness to me, but shall at all times 
 embrace any opportunity which may otter to prove how sincerely 
 “ J am, dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your obliged friend and humble servant. 
 
 “C. J. Greville.’’ 
 
 18th August, 1 788. 
 
 Among the pictures painted in 1789, were the following; — A full 
 length portrait of the beautiful, but frail Mrs. Hodges, for Walkier, 
 the celebrated Brussels banker. Her attitude was a good deal similar 
 
212 
 
 to that of Colonel Tarleton in Reynold’s fine portrait of that officer. 
 She was represented, if 1 rightly remember, with her back towards 
 the spectator, and stooping- to tye her shoe-string, having- her coun- 
 tenance retrospective. It was a most delightful picture, but never 
 had the advantage of being exhibited to the view of admiring Eng- 
 lishmen ; for it was sent to Brussels before the French revolution. 
 What became of it, and its wealthy possessor, when the French in- 
 vaded Flanders, I have never heard ; but I hope it had the good for- 
 tune to be restored to this country. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert, three-quarters ; and also, half-whole-length. 
 
 A three-quarters picture of Master Hayley in the character of 
 Robin Good-fellow ; conceived with much poetic fancy, and beauti- 
 fully painted. 
 
 Mr. Edward Law, three-quarters, (Lord Ellenborough.) 
 
 Mr. A dye’s children, in one piece. 
 
 The Revd. Doctor Paley, half-whole-length. This excellent por- 
 trait would be a good companion to that of Bishop Watson. I should 
 like to see the latter adorn the walls of Trinity College, and Paley’s 
 those of Christ’s, Cambridge ; societies to which the originals have 
 respectively done so much honour. Paley is represented with his 
 fishing-rod in his hand, indicating his attachment to a contemplative 
 amusement, not inconsistent with the sacred functions of his profes- 
 sion. When the Doctor first came to sit, he was accompanied by 
 Doctor Law, the Bishop of Clonfert ; and, being a man that disre- 
 garded externals, Isis dress was not the most suitable for a picture ; 
 he was, therefore, prevailed with to put on the Bishop’s hat, and, 1 
 believe, his coat also*. 
 
 * In the Life of Doctor Paley (prefixed to the works of that learned divine and philosopher 
 recently published by his son) is the following observation respecting this portrait, which 
 conveying a reflection on Mr. Itomney, ought not to be passed over in silence . — “ It was 
 
213 
 
 Two MissBeckfords, half- whole-length. 
 
 The Earl of Westmorland, half-whole-length, for Emanuel College, 
 Cambridge. 
 
 In 1790 he painted Doctor Fowler, Archbishop of Dublin, half- 
 whole-length. 
 
 A half-length portrait of Doctor Markham, Archbishop of York. 
 This was a picture of uncommon merit, and inferior to none by any 
 master. His Grace was in like manner, painted without his robes, 
 which gave additional simplicity and naturalness to the character. 
 When Mr. Romney painted dignified characters, it was always 
 his wish, if left to his own choice, to exclude from their dress all for- 
 mal appendages of rank and profession ; and to invest them with 
 simplicity and grandeur. This was the reason why he preferred 
 painting Bishops without their robes, and Doctors Watson and Pa- 
 ley with hats on. He began a full-length portrait of the Lord Chan- 
 cellor Thurlow, with a hat on, for Colonel Jolmes of Hafod. But 
 the latter gentleman’s circumstances becoming embarrassed, Mr. 
 Romney was not pressed to finish it, and the picture remained in that 
 
 thought so good a painting, that when Doctor Law, then Bishop of Clonfert, called on Rom- 
 ney to pay him the stipulated price, the painter took up his fifty pounds with great dissatis- 
 faction, at the same time observing, he had been offered twice as much for it.” From what- 
 ever source Mr. Paley has derived his information, it certainly is not true. Mr. Romney 
 received sixty guineas for it from Mr. Edward Law (Lord Ellenborougli) on the 6tli of April, 
 1791, which was the price of a picture of that size at the time Doctor Paley began to sit, viz. 
 July 10th, 1789. Mr. Romney advanced his prices on the first of the following October to 
 seventy guineas. As this interval was so very short, and during the summer recess, it is not im- 
 probable that Mr. Romney might, inadvertently, have expected the latter price, not recollec- 
 ting the precise time when the Doctor first came to sit ; and, having taken great pains with 
 it, and it being esteemed a most excellent portrait, it would, perhaps, have been no more than 
 a just compliment, if he had been paid seventy guineas. I am sure that Mr. Romney was 
 perfectly incapable of making any charge which he did not at the time think just. 
 
214 
 
 state at his death. The head, however, was afterwards sold to the 
 Colonel. 1 may mention here, as another proof of Mr. Rom- 
 ney’s disinterestedness with respect to money, that when he began to 
 paint the great family-picture for Colonel Johnes, that gentleman 
 offered then to pay the whole price, three hundred guineas, and 
 pressed him to take it ; hut he declined receiving more than half, and 
 the remainder was not paid till after Mr. Romney’s death. 
 
 A half-length picture, containing the portraits of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Drax Grosvenor and child, in oval, was painted this year. 
 
 Mrs. Bonner and child, half-whole-length. 
 
 While Mr. Romney was engaged in painting the large picture of 
 The Tempest, he, to avoid the frequent interruption of callers, had 
 instructed his servant to deny him to all who did not come expressly 
 on business. It happened that Mr. Cumberland, who on former oc- 
 casions had generally been admitted into his private painting-room 
 as a privileged friend, having come to town about this time, paid his 
 accustomed visit; but was refused along with the rest. When this 
 circumstance became known to Mr. Romney, he was exceedingly sorry, 
 and desired me to write to him, and apologize. The following let- 
 ter was in answer; and, as it chiefly refers to the above named pic- 
 ture, I have taken the liberty to insert it here. 
 
 Tunbridge Wells; 
 Sunday 18th April, 1790. 
 
 “To the Revd. John Romney, 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I beg you will assure your worthy father of the perfect sense I have 
 of his kindness, and at the same time of the little need there was to 
 make any thing like an excuse for his forbearance, whilst he was en- 
 
215 
 
 g aged in so interesting a work as the completion of his great compo- 
 sition for the Shakspeare Gallery. 
 
 “ When he indulged me with a sight of that noble work he effec- 
 tually forestalled every occasion for an apology to his friends, if any 
 of them could he stupid enough to stand in need of any explanation 
 of the cause of his sequestering himself from the distractions of com- 
 pany. He has done enough to justify himself to the most captious 
 and querulential, if any such can be found in his list of acquaintance; 
 for when they see the operations of his art, they cannot fail to judge 
 of the exertions of his mind, and of the necessity he was under to 
 keep it collected and in force. Had he let in the world upon his 
 work, their very praises would have been unseasonable, and an inter- 
 ruption to the progress of it. In my opinion, therefore, he did per- 
 fectly right in holding the door against all observers, and myself (tho’ 
 one of the most anxious, and 1 flatter myself the least intrusive) 
 amongst the rest. 3 now assure myself of his success, and have a 
 fellow feeling in the satisfaction which his laurels will bestow. 
 
 “ ] am coming to town on Tuesday and shall stay only that night 
 and Wednesday, and on Thursday set out with my friend Hilly to 
 Bedfordshire with a view of paying a visit to my old relation Mr. 
 Reynolds, whom 1 have not seen for some time, and who is at the 
 end of life or very near it: 1 have accepted Mr. Hilly’s kind offer of 
 a bed at his house, and we shall he accompanied by Mr. Boswell on 
 our journey. 3 hardly flatter myself 1 can get to Cavendish Square 
 from the Poultry, as my time is laid out in business ; hut if 1 can, I 
 do not want for inclination and attraction. Accept of the best com- 
 pliments and good wishes of your guests*, Mrs. Cumberland and 
 Sophia, and believe me most sincerely and affectionately your s, 
 
 “R. Cumberland.” 
 
 * Alluding’ to a visit at Cambridge. 
 
216 
 
 At the time when the Shakspeare Gallery was the subject of 
 general conversation and interest, Mr. Cumberland was also en- 
 gaged in writing his Observer ; and entering himself warmly into 
 the feelings of the public, he took occasion to introduce into the 
 ninety ninth number of that work a supposed translation of an ima- 
 ginary Greek fragment, recording a similar scheme by an Athenian 
 Areopagite in honour of their great dramatist, /Eschylus ; intending 
 thereby to describe, under the appropriate names of Apelles, Parrha- 
 sius, and Timanthes, three pictures to be painted by Reynolds, West, 
 and Mr. Romney. The picture of the Tempest which he there 
 describes, was the one which Mr. Romney had begun before the 
 Boydell speculation was thought of ; for Mr. Cumberland never saw 
 the picture which was sent to the Gallery, till after it was finished ; 
 and that was some years subsequent to the publication of the Observer. 
 The traits of character which he has given to Timanthes, apply so 
 exactly to Mr. Romney, that they may be introduced here, as consti- 
 tuting a part of his peculiarities. 
 
 “ This modest painter, though residing in the capital of Attica, liv- 
 ed in such retirement from society, and was so absolutely devoted to 
 liis. art, that even his person was scarce known to his competitors. 
 Envy never drew a word from his lips to the disparagement of a con- 
 temporary, and emulation could hardly provoke his diffidence into a 
 contest for fame, which so many bolder rivals were prepared to dis- 
 pute.” 
 
 In the autumn of this year Mr. Romney again visited Paris, in 
 company with Mr. Hay ley and the Reverend Thomas Carrardine. 
 The following two letters, addressed to me, give a brief account of 
 some of the principal circumstances which occurred in that excursion. 
 
217 
 
 Paris, August 5th, 1790. 
 
 “My dear Son, 
 
 “We are at length arrived at Paris in good health and spirits, af- 
 ter a journey of three days from Brighton. We have been here only 
 one day, f, therefore, cannot yet say much. Paris is quiet, though 
 they are very apprehensive that our preparations for war are against 
 them. The news just arrived from Spain will, I hope, stop that ap- 
 prehension ; it is — they wish for peace. I should have written to you 
 before I left England, had I had time ; as 1 knew it would give 
 much pleasure to hear that Prince William has sat to me ; and that 
 the Prince of Wales has been at my house, and admired a new pic- 
 ture of Mrs. Fitzherbert, and told me he would sit to me when he 
 re tinned from Brighton.” 
 
 — Paris, August 10th. 
 
 “ 1 got so far, hut could not advance a word further, the weather 
 was so extremely hot ; 1, therefore, lost the opportunity of sending 
 by the ambassador’s packet . — \ can now inform you that the weather 
 has become more temperate, and that we have had much pleasure in 
 viewing the pictures and curiosities of Paris. The people are still 
 gay and good-humoured, hut not so fantastic as they were ; indeed it 
 is a pleasant place to live in when a man wishes to dissipate. Every 
 body meets either at the theatres, (of which there are nine open at 
 this season when Paris is the thinnest of people,) or in the Palais 
 Royal every evening. The last is a large quadrangle with a beauti- 
 
 ful arcade on all sides ; the whole of the Piazza is filled with rich 
 shops for all kinds of trinkets and elegancies, and with splendid coffee 
 houses : it is planted with trees, and crowded with people of all ranks, 
 walking till twelve o’clock at night. S he whole of the apartments 
 over the shops are let to ladies of pleasure, whose windows look 
 
 F F 
 
218 
 
 down upon the people walking in the arcade and the square , which 
 renders it one of the most licentious and splendid places in Europe. 
 We have been much delighted with the performances in the theatres, 
 particularly by the women : they are far before us ; it is astonishing 
 how exquisitely some of the women act, especially in comedy. 1 wish 
 1 could say that Mrs. Jordan was upon a par with some of them. — I 
 cannot help reflecting that the minds of a people and 1 may say their 
 morals too, become almost entirely changed when daily habituated to 
 public spectacle and rendezvous; it is viewing nature through a false 
 medium, which warps, and often entirely destroys those delicate feel- 
 ings that grow up with us, and are the basis of true happiness. — I am 
 always pleased to hear that you pursue your studies with vigour, and 
 you may be assured it will awaken additional feelings of tenderness 
 and satisfaction in your 
 
 “ Affectionate father, 
 
 “Geo. Romney.” 
 
 “ Dear Son, 
 
 “ I promised to write to you when I arrived in England, which is 
 now about three weeks ago ; but 1 was taken ill the day after I 
 reached Mr. Hayley’s, and continued so till last Sunday, when 1 jour- 
 neyed to London. I have been tolerable since, and gain health every 
 day. I believe I caught cold in coming over the water ; we lay 
 twenty two hours in bed, and it rained all the time and was very hot. 
 
 “ Our journey to France was accompanied with every thing that 
 was flattering and extraordinary. — Madame Sillery, the lady who 
 wrote the Tales of the Castle, and is governess to the Duke of 
 Orleans’ children, shewed us great attention. We dined with her 
 twice, and she carried us into the country twelve miles to Raney, 
 
219 
 
 a seat of the Duke of Orleans, which is a beautiful place, laid out in 
 the English taste — and another time she took us to a convent, where 
 we saw the whole of it, which could not have been done without a 
 prince of the blood. — The Duke de Chartres and his brother and sis- 
 ter accompanied us, and dined with us. They all speak English. 
 The carriage carried twelve people, which is a very comfortable and 
 sociable way of travelling ; it was drawn by eight horses. — The Duke 
 de Chartres is a very fine young man, about sixteen, and very ac- 
 complished. 
 
 “ We dined with the ambassador twice; they* shewed great po- 
 liteness in going out with us twice to see curiosities. 
 
 “Excuse my saying more at present, 
 
 “ And believe me to be 
 
 “Your most affectionate father, 
 
 “Geo. Romney.” 
 
 In 1791 he painted Mrs. St. George and child, whole-length. 
 
 Mrs. Morton Pitt and child, half-whole-length. 
 
 it was about this time that he painted The Infant Shakspeare , 
 nursed by Tragedy and Comedy. This exquisite picture was sold 
 to Mr. Newbery for one hundred and sixty five guineas. 
 
 'The Dancing Bacchante ; sold to Mr. C. Curwen. 
 
 The Infant Shakspeare attended by the Passions, already men- 
 tioned. 
 
 The following two letters are from Doctor Potter, and will be in- 
 teresting to the reader on many accounts. The first will afford 
 
 * Lord Gower and Lady Sutherland. 
 
220 
 
 peculiar gratification to the good people of Lowestoft, as conveying a 
 flattering testimony to their character from their late amiable and 
 excellent pastor. As far as it concerns Mr. Romney, it justly up- 
 braids him for a failing to which he was but too subject — a backward- 
 ness in writing letters and in finishing pictures — and which at this 
 time was beginning to grow upon him. The second shews that he 
 had complied with the Doctor’s wishes in both respects, though 
 
 Lowestoft, Suffolk, dOth Deer., 1701. 
 
 “ I )ear Sir, 
 
 “ Though 1 have lost my connexion with my old Turkey merchant, 
 and am removed thirty miles from him, 1 had sometime ago an op- 
 portunity of ordering him to send you one of his finest fowls ; whe- 
 ther he 1ms sent it, and you have received it, I know not ; you will 
 never let me know : do not think I have so trifling a mind as to wish 
 to be thanked ; but there is some satisfaction in being certain that 
 what was intended as a remembrance was received ; and more in 
 knowing, that a friend, whom one values, is well. 
 
 “ When 1 had last the pleasure of seeing you, the honour done me 
 by the Lord Chancellor was in its fresh bloom ; the following summer 
 I received as unexpected and as profitable a favour from the then 
 Bishop of Norwich; his Lordship came to my house, offered me, and 
 forced me to accept this living w ith its usual appendage ; it is the 
 best and most reputable preferment in our Bishop’s gift. I knew that 
 I should be obliged to purchase this house, to repair and furnish it; 
 I knew not how so exposed a situation, so near the sea, would agree 
 with my weak constitution ; J dreaded the clerical duty of a large 
 town; and had not a wish to increase my income ; therefore! quitted 
 
Seaming with reluctance : but upon trial I grew fond of the place, 
 and pleased with the people, the soberest, the quietest, the civilest 1 
 ever knew. The town is built along the edge of the cliff, with gar- 
 dens on the east down to the beach ; my house is near the highest 
 point, from my hall door we go down seventy eight steps to the bot- 
 tom of my garden ; the sea is very near, and the track of navigation 
 close to the shore; as I now sit by the lire in my study, I have a full 
 view of the German Ocean; Rotterdam is the opposite point. 
 
 “ J ims far all is well ; but, my dear Sir, neither honour, nor money, 
 nor situation will exempt us from the ills of life. Last summer (last 
 year) in my attendance at the cathedral at Norwich I laid the founda- 
 tion of a very severe illness, which confined me from the first of Au- 
 gust to the twelfth of December. I was resident at Norwich during 
 the months of April and May fast, hut very infirm; I have ever since 
 been gradually gaining strength, and am wonderfully recovered. As 
 soon as S had this appointment T brought my son hither, happy in 
 having him near me; he was then in bad health, he has been declin- 
 ing ever since, and I cannot Hatter myself with a hope of his reco- 
 very ; I must lose him, ami probably soon. This induces me once 
 more to entreat you to send me his picture ; his memory will always 
 be dear to me; let me have the melancholy pleasure of seeing his 
 image ever before me. Nothing-, but his recovery, of which 1 despair, 
 could gratify me so much. Can you refuse me this consolation? — 
 1 should be glad to have it sent to me at Norwich, with which city 
 we have an easy communication. I shall be resident there, in the 
 C lose, during- the months of April and May next. With every good wish, 
 
 “ I am, dear SiC 
 
 “ Your msst obliged humble servant, 
 
 “R. Potter.” 
 
909 
 
 Lowestot, Deer. 17th, 1792. 
 
 “ My clear Sir, 
 
 “ Your letter gave me more pleasure and satisfaction than I am 
 able to express, on a double account, as it assures me of the conti- 
 nuance of your regard and friendship, and tells me that I shall soon 
 receive my son’s picture ; for both which I most heartily thank you. 
 You will be so good as to send the picture to me in the Close, Nor- 
 wich, directed to the care of Mr. Utten, our factotum there. I shall 
 request him to take it out of the case, as I believe paintings are in- 
 jured by being kept too close. I intend to remove from these bleak 
 cliffs to my little warm nest at Norwich in the first week of January 
 and will write to you as soon as I get thither. You will give me 
 leave to pay for the frame, &c. — My son died in February last; I 
 was at that time dangerously ill, but had the good fortune to be un- 
 der the care of a physician who knows something ; he not only re- 
 stored me, but has given me firmer health than I had known for some 
 years past. Such health and better, as you are a much younger man, 
 1 wish you for your own sake, for the honour of Apelles-ism, and for 
 posterity. 
 
 “i am, dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your most obliged and affectionate humble servant, 
 
 “R. Potter.” 
 
 As the following letter from Mr. Romney, addressed to me, con- 
 tains some particulars respecting his art, I need not, perhaps, apo- 
 logize for inserting it here. 
 
 February 4th, 1792. 
 
 “ Dear Son, 
 
 “ 1 have had so little time to spare this winter that T have not been 
 able to write. I have preserved my health, however, better than last 
 
winter. I have been using- a flesh-brush, dipt in salt water, and 
 brushing- myself all over every morning-, and after that rubbing* my- 
 self with a rough towel, which has contributed much to my health 
 and spirits. — The beginning of winter Mr. Hayley was in town above 
 six weeks, and a Mr. Clarke of St. Johns’, which took up all my 
 leisure hours; and since that, Madame Silvery, Mademoiselle D’ 
 Orleans, and Pamela have been in London ; the last S am painting, 
 who is very beautiful ; and a head, also, of Madame Slllery. — I have 
 given some part of my time to them. — 1 have nearly finished Cassan- 
 dra; I believe it will do well. Joan D’ Arc is considerably advanced ; 
 and S have finished several pictures and begun others. — ! have made, 
 and am making designs from Milton; and mean to make several be- 
 fore 1 begin to paint them, but it is quite a secret . — 1 am glad to 
 hear that you have passed your divinity act, — I have seldom seen 
 Hubbersty; I have dined out often, and had people at dinner, who 
 would not suit with him. However, if I had seen him more frequently, 
 I should have filled up some vacant day with his company at dinner. 
 
 “ 1 am most affectionately 
 
 “ Yours, &c.” 
 
 He painted two half-whole-lengths of Pamela; they were finished 
 as far as the sitter was necessary, but he never had time to complete 
 them. One he gave to Mr. Hayley, and the other was bought 
 many years after by Lord Dunlo (the Earl of Clancarty) for Lady 
 
 Conolly. 
 
 Li S792 he painted the two children of Mr. Fitzackley, half-length. 
 In June of this year he painted the portrait of Thomas Paine for 
 Cooper, of Manchester. It is one of the finest heads ever produced 
 by pencil, both for professional skill, and physiognomical expression. 
 
224 
 
 flie character is simple, but vulgar ; shrewd, but devoid of feeling-. 
 Sharpe has made a clever engraving from it. I wish this excellent 
 artist had made more after Mr. Romney’s works ; he was the only 
 engraver of the day who could do him justice. Tf Paine had not been 
 notorious by his mischievous writings, this portrait alone would have 
 rescued his name from oblivion. 
 
 1 think the following letter from Miss Seward ought not to be sup- 
 pressed, though its contents may not, perhaps, be regarded as ol 
 much importance ; it, however, communicates some information. 
 
 “To George Romney, Esquire. 
 
 Lichfield, July 6th, 1792. 
 
 “ My dear Friend, 
 
 “When, at a good young man’s request, 1 was prevailed upon to 
 mention him to you, it w as without any expectation that his wishes 
 could be successful. Conscious of the numerous applications of this 
 sort, inevitably made to you, 1 had no hope for my townsman ; and 
 indulged his longing that 1 should write to you in his beliall from 
 the same motive, (as I told Mr. Hayley in my answer to his kind 
 letter on this subject,) which induced Johnson to present a hopeless 
 petition in favour of the condemned Dodd, f trusted you would 
 conceive it impossible I should be so unreasonable as to consider 
 your declining my application, as the least degree ol unkindness. 
 With youi- apology, through Mr. Hayley, 1 rested perfectly satisfied 
 — but, in a few days, after I heard from him, comes a letter from 
 Butler full of grateful acknow ledgments for the precious, and high 
 prized privileges you indulgently allow him ; and for the obligation 
 and advantage of your correcting remarks upon his attempts, result- 
 ing from the permission of copying your pictures. 
 
225 
 
 “ Indeed, my dear Romney, this is kind in you beyond all my 
 hopes; and 1 consider myself as not less obliged on this account, 
 than your half-adoring pupil. There is no resisting- the desire I feel 
 to obtrude my thanks upon yourself, tho’ 1 had already expressed 
 them to Mr. Hayley. You are never expected to answer letters — 
 writing- to one friend, you must write to others ; and your pencil 
 gives you more sedentary employment than, I fear, can be good for 
 your health, in the preservation of which the nation is interested as 
 well as your personal friends. 
 
 “ Adieu ! beloved and honoured Titiano — how that name recalls 
 the happy, happy hours 5 passed with you at Eartham ; when by the 
 title “Muse ” you summoned me to the morning- walk ! 
 
 “ Your ever obliged, 
 
 “ A Seward.” 
 
 S he following letter from Mr. Romney, addressed to me, contains 
 much interesting- information. 
 
 London, October 10th, 1792. 
 
 “ Dear John, 
 
 “ 1 have not been able till very lately to say much in favour of my 
 health ; but, thank God, I am now well recovered from a very un- 
 healthy and uncomfortable summer. I was near a month at Mr. 
 Hayley’s, where S met Mr. Cowper, and Mrs. Smith; and yet, in 
 spite of such good company, and bathing, my health continued very 
 poorly. — Mr. Cowper is a most excellent man ; he lias translated 
 Milton’s Latin Poems, and 1 suppose very well. Hayley is writing 
 the life of Milton, so you may imagine that we were deep in that 
 poet; every thing belonging to him was collected together, and some 
 
 G G 
 
22 ® 
 
 part of his works read every day. Mrs. Smith is writing- another 
 Novel, which, as far as it is advanced, is, I think, very good. She 
 began it while I was there, and finished one volume. She wrote a 
 chapter every day, which was read at night, without requiring any 
 correcting. I think her a woman of astonishing powers. She lias 
 two daughters grown to womanhood, a son in the East Indies, and 
 another at Winchester school ; and she supports them almost wholly 
 by her writing. She and the two poets were employed every mor- 
 ning from eight o’clock till twelve in writing, when they had a lun- 
 cheon, and walked an hour ; they then wrote again till they dressed 
 for dinner. After dinner they (Hay ley and Cowper) were employed 
 in translating an Italian Play on the subject of Satan ; about twenty 
 lines was the number every day. After that they walked, or played 
 at Coits ; then tea, and after that the } 7 read till supper time. This 
 was their general plan of each day. I mention this as an example 
 of the most rational employment of time, and of the greatest industry. 
 
 “ I am studying hard, and have had a great number of letters to 
 write, which has been the cause of my delay — indeed, writing ha- 
 rasses me more than any thing else. 
 
 “Our good friend* is in the north ; if you see him you may talk 
 with him concerning what you said to me about making a purchase 
 in the north. — Madame de Sillery and her party are now in town, &c.” 
 
 This visit to Eartham was productive of many advantages. It was 
 then that he painted the portraits of Charlotte Smith and of Cowper, 
 both in crayons ; the latter gave birth to the following- Sonnet, which 
 Mr. Romney received the beginning of November through the me- 
 dium of Mr. Hay ley. 
 
 * Mr. Thomas Greene. 
 
227 
 
 To George Romney, Esq. 
 
 “ Romney, — expert infallibly to trace 
 On chart or canvass, not the form alone 
 And semblance, but, however faintly shown, 
 
 The mind’s impression too on every face 
 With strokes that time oug-ht never to erase, — 
 Thou hast so pencill’d mine, that, tho’ 1 own 
 The subject worthless, I have never known 
 The artist shining’ with superior grace. 
 
 But this I mark — that symptoms none of woe 
 In thy incomparable work appear. 
 
 Well — I am satisfied it should be so. 
 
 Since, on maturci* thought, the cause is clear ; 
 For in my looks what sorrow could’st thou see, 
 While I was Hayley’s guest, and sat to thee ? ” 
 
 “W. Cowper.” 
 
 Mr. Cowper is said to have had some difficulty in satisfying his 
 own mind while composing this Sonnet; but whatever pains it may 
 have cost him, they certainly were not fruitless; for it is exquisite in 
 neatness and point. 
 
 Soon after this he received the following- letter also from Mr. 
 
 (ZJ 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 “My dear Romney, 
 
 “ Since I left Eartham nothing has occurred that has given me so 
 much pleasure as the arrival of your fine picture of our most amiable 
 friend Hayley ; and your kindness in sending me what the box con- 
 tained beside, gratifies me in the highest degree, convincing me that 
 
228 
 
 I am not forgotten by one whom I shall always remember with af- 
 fection. All arrived safe, and for all I thank you. — My young cousin 
 has told me by letter how kindly you behaved to him when he called 
 on you. For this I thank you likewise, for I love him and have 
 great reason to do so. It was a very sensible mortification to me 
 that I could not have the pleasure of seeing you at your own house 
 in my way through London ; but the danger of offending others whom 
 I should have been obliged to pass unvisited, deterred me. The 
 happy day I hope will come when you will make me amends for what 
 I lost for that severe necessity, by giving us your company at Wes- 
 ton. Happy indeed should 1 be to see you here, and the hope of it, 
 which you gave me encouragement to entertain, is too pleasant to be 
 slightly parted with. I lavley will be called to London sometime in 
 the course of the coming year, and a chaise will bring you easily in 
 seven hours. A little relaxation will be good for you, and your en- 
 joying it here will be equally good forme. I have been a poor crea- 
 ture ever since I saw you ; dispirited to the greatest degree and in- 
 capable of all mental exertion ; a state from which I do not expect 
 deliverance till the buds shall peep and less sullen skies revive me. 
 Mrs. Unwin is at least as well as she was at Eartham — perhaps a little 
 better. She desires me to say how kindly she remembers you, and 
 how much she shall rejoice to see you. 
 
 “Adieu, — God bless you ! 
 
 “ Believe me affectionately yours, 
 
 Weston Underwood, “Wm. Cowper.” 
 
 Nov. 28th, 1792. 
 
 Mr. Romney’s delightful picture of Milton and Ids two Dauf/k- 
 ters owes its origin likewise to those attic conversations at Eartham; 
 
it was not, however, painted till the autumn of 1793. Mr. Whitbread 
 bought it soon after it was finished for two hundred guineas. He 
 brought Charles Fox to see it, and it was with his approbation and 
 advice that the purchase was made. The Boydells gave Mr. Rom- 
 ney fifty guineas to be allowed to take a print from it. 
 
 Some years after lie received the following copy of verses and the 
 accompanying note, from a gentleman of the name of Cooper. 
 
 For Mr. Romney. 
 
 “With Mr. Cooper’s compliments, as an acknowledgment for the 
 pleasure he has received from the exquisite composition of Milton and 
 his two Daughters, lately presented him by a nephew.” 
 
 Under a Print (from Romney) of Milton and his two 
 
 Daughters. 
 
 “ See the blind bard, whose vast and mighty mind 
 Could soar and leave the universe behind ; 
 
 Could stretch its fancy through the tracts on high, 
 
 Beyond the blazing limits of the sky ; 
 
 And thro’ night’s outward darkness knew to sing 
 H ow Satan journey’d on his murky wing; 
 
 Of Michael’s battles, Pandemonium, tell, 
 
 Messiah’s thunders, and the ilarnes of hell. 
 
 This is the man, and thus behold he sat 
 In all the greatness of domestic state; 
 
 View him his lofty epic here begin, 
 
 Without all darkness, but all light within; 
 
 His lovely offspring aiding in the plan. 
 
 With almost adoration of the man. 
 
230 
 
 Observe that filial eye ; by duty led, 
 
 She would not lose one syllable lie said ; 
 
 And mark the sister, sedulous to share 
 The honour of her name, transcribe with care. 
 
 — This is the bud, which afterwards unfurl ’d, 
 
 Has bloom’d — has charm’d — astonish’d all the world.” 
 
 J. C. 
 
 Having* lately devoted more of his time to historical painting in 
 consequence of the Shakspeare Gallery, lie began to experience a 
 want of casts to aid his memory, and to correct the imperfections of 
 nature in studying the Nude; he, therefore, sent to his friend Flaxman 
 at Rome, one hundred pounds, and commissioned him to purchase 
 to that amount such as he should deem the best and most suitable, 
 according to his experienced judgment and taste. 
 
 S he following letter from that gentleman will give the particulars, 
 and also some account of his own studies. 
 
 Rome, Septr. 12th, 1792. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I have sent you ten large cases of plaister casts by the Ship 
 Arno from Leghorn, John Burstall, Master; they were carefully 
 packed under my own observation, and I hope will arrive safe. I 
 have spent several months in collecting them; some I have had moul- 
 ded from the antique on purpose, and 1 think I have sent you the 
 cream of the finest things in Rome, as far as the money would go — 
 there is a group of Laocoon and his Sons, which cost eighty Roman 
 crowns, or eighteen pounds English — the Apollo Belvidere cost forty 
 Roman crowns, or nine pounds English. — 1 have sent you besides, 
 
231 
 
 groups of Castor and Pollux, of Cupid and Psyche, a figure of Apollo 
 the lizard-killer, a cast of the has relief on the Burghese vase — a 
 fine has relief of the destruction of Niobe’s family, several busts, and 
 all the best fragments of legs and arms, &c., which I could find — 
 the whole of the casts cost fifty seven pounds ten shillings, English, 
 or two hundred and fifty Roman crowns — the packing cases, packing, 
 and porterage, eighty four Roman crowns, or nineteen pounds English 
 — the custom-house duties, shipping, and carriage to Leghorn, twelve 
 pounds ten shillings — so that in all I have laid out eighty eight 
 pounds ten shillings. — I have remaining in my hands eleven pounds 
 ten shillings, which I will lay out in other casts and send them to 
 you as soon as possible — 1 have sent the bill of lading inclosed. You 
 will do me the favour to let me know when you have received this 
 letter ; or, if you have not time to write, be so kind to call on my 
 sister, and desire her to let me know. If any of the casts should be 
 broken pray let my father mend them ; or if he has a mind to mould 
 any of the smaller articles pray let him. My employments at present 
 are, finishing Lord Bristol’s great group in marble, making a model 
 for a restoration of the Torso Belvidere, and, in the evenings, making 
 a series of drawings from Homer and Dante, which are engraving. 
 Pray give my duty to my father and mother when you see them, and 
 tell them f shall certainly see them the beginning of the ensuing 
 summer at farthest with Cod’s permission — with gratitude for all 
 your kindness, and warmest wishes for your health and happiness, I 
 have the honour to be, dear Sir, 
 
 “ Your obedient servant, 
 
 “J. Flaxman, Jun.” 
 
 Having considered Mr. Flaxman’s letters as of too important a 
 character to be withheld, both with regard to that eminent sculptor 
 
232 
 
 himself, and also on account of the interesting information they con- 
 tain ; but especially as they relate to circumstances connected with 
 the life of Mr. Romney : and knowing also, at the same time, that 
 I should not be justified in publishing them without his permission; 
 I accordingly wrote to him, and received the following answer ; 
 which, also, in like maimer, claims insertion here on account of its 
 interesting contents, at least, as far as relates to Mr. Romney. 
 
 To the Rcvd. John Romney. 
 
 “ My dear Sir, 
 
 “ I was favoured by your very kind letter this morning, and assure you 
 there is no danger that S am likely to forget my former valued friend 
 or his worthy son ; I always remember Mr. Romney’s notice of my 
 boyish years and productions with gratitude ; his original and striking 
 conversation ; his masterly, grand, and feeling compositions are con- 
 tinually before me, and 1 still feel the benefits of his acquaintance 
 and recommendations. 1 am not surprised at your desire to correct 
 misstatements in the published life of a father so eminent in his art, 
 adorned besides with qualities equally rare and valuable. I am sure 
 his late biographer intended to honour his memory with his best ex- 
 ertions, but we must not forget the feebleness of human judgment ; 
 we may sometimes think we have offered a splendid tribute, where 
 glitter supj dies the place of reality, and false sentiment usurps the 
 place of real principle; how much it is to be regretted such publica- 
 tions abound at present ! They Wind the understanding, and destroy 
 the religious and moral sense of right. A son’s corrections are, per- 
 haps, the best antidotes, although the task is delicate and difficult. 
 I wish my employments permitted me to accept the agreeable imi- 
 tation to your house, 1 should be happy to retrace with you the 
 talents and virtues of my honoured friend, but my engagements are 
 
233 
 
 imperative, and do not permit me the association* of angels and 
 cherubs (much as I love them) at any distance from home at present. 
 
 “ I thank you sincerely for the indulgence allowed to my letters ; 
 such as they are pray make use of them in any way you may think 
 proper, and I wish they were more expressive of your father’s merits 
 and worth. 
 
 “ I hope you enjoy better health than formerly, and I do not re- 
 linquish the hope of seeing you in Buckingham Street, where I shall 
 be extremely happy to acknowledge your attentions in the humble 
 style of our limited household. 
 
 “ 1 have the honour to remain, 
 
 “ My dear Sir, with great respect, 
 
 “ Your obliged humble servant, 
 
 “ John Flaxman.” 
 
 Mth Augt, 1821. 
 
 Mr. Romney had great pleasure in studying and contemplating 
 these casts ; and I have known him sometimes have evening parties 
 in his private painting-room, when he suspended a powerful lamp 
 over the Laocoon, which, by its descending rays, gave a bold relief 
 to the muscles and prominences of the figures, and a terrific grandeur 
 to the group altogether, approaching to something like reality. I re- 
 member his mentioning to me once, a scheme he had contrived for 
 illuminating the theatres, by throwing the light upon the stage from 
 above ; by which the actors would be seen to greater advantage and 
 
 * This alludes to my having 1 mentioned, by way of inducement to visit me, my own children, 
 as suitable models for monumental studies of cherubs and angels; he not having any of his 
 own. 
 
 H H 
 
234 
 
 with more effect, and the eye of the spectator less offended by the 
 glare. 
 
 In 1793 he painted a large whole-length of the Right Honourable 
 Henry Dundas, for the University of Aberdeen. 
 
 The Margrave and Margravine of Anspach, two whole-lengths. 
 
 Mrs. George Horsley and children, half-length. 
 
 In the following winter he produced the Indian Woman. 
 
 “ When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive. 
 
 And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind ; 
 
 Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait 
 Following her womb, then rich with my young ’ squire , 
 Would imitate .” 
 
 Mid. Sum. Night Dream, Act 2nd, Scene 2nd. 
 This was one of the most exquisite of Mr. Romney’s pictures. It 
 was bought by Mr. Beckford, of Fonthill, for three hundred guineas, 
 and afterwards sold in his first sale to a gentleman, I believe of Dor- 
 setshire, for nearly the same sum. 
 
 He painted about this time, also, the Death of Ophelia, and Su- 
 san, from the ballad of “ When the Seas were roaring neither of 
 which was in a finished state. And those various unfinished pictures, 
 representing Titania under different circumstances, and in different 
 attitudes ; one of which, a beautiful naked figure, I regret much that 
 I did not reserve from the sale. It was, in truth, a very fairy. It 
 represented her reposing in her bower, and in a state of somnolency; 
 and, if I remember rightly, Bottom sleeping by her side. All these 
 except one, were, I believe, bought by artists ; and have, I have no 
 doubt, contributed essentially to improve the taste of the succeeding 
 
235 
 
 generation of painters.— The one excepted was that of Titania, Puck 
 and the Changeling, purchased by Sir John Leicester. 
 
 In 1794 he painted a whole-length portrait of the Duke of Port- 
 land. 
 
 A very fine large half-length of Abraham Newland, for the Bank 
 of England. 
 
 The Earl of Euston, (Duke of Grafton,) half-length for the Mar- 
 quis of Camden, then Viceroy of Ireland, whither it was sent. 
 
 Also, a three-quarters of the humble individual who writes this ; 
 no otherwise entitled to notice here than as being a specimen of his 
 hold and spirited manner, and as having been finished in two sittings ; 
 the whole time not exceeding three hours. 
 
 In August I accompanied him in an excursion to the Isle of Wight. 
 He was then in had health. We sailed from Portsmouth in the 
 packet, and had a brisk, but favourable gale, which carried us ra- 
 pidly through Lord Howe’s fleet, which was then lying at Spithead, 
 w ith the recently captured French ships. The day w as fine, and the 
 passage delightful. We stayed at Cowes three weeks, occasionally 
 making excursions to different parts of the island. On our return I 
 left him at Eartham. A visit to Holland was contemplated with a 
 view to purchase pictures, which I am sorry did not take place ; but 
 from what cause I do not now r remember. That this tour to the Isle 
 of Wight had, in some measure, repaired his shattered constitution, 
 may be inferred from his subsequent works: for in the following win- 
 ter he painted Newton making experiments with the Prism. This 
 he intended as a companion to Milton and his Daughters, to which 
 it bore a strong resemblance, both in the simplicity and domestic 
 character of the subject, and in the composition of the design. It 
 
236 
 
 represented that contemplative philosopher seated on the right of the 
 picture, attentively observing a Prism, which he holds with his right 
 hand in a sun-beam, and two female attendants placed opposite ; one 
 of whom with a silly kind of laugh is expressing her astonishment at 
 the phenomenon of the prismatic colours projected on the wall ; while 
 the other is in the act of carefully bringing in a caraff of water. The 
 composition is simple, according with the sobriety of the subject ; 
 and the effect beautiful : the countenance of one female is in shadow, 
 and that of the other (the laughing girl) in a reflected light, or demi- 
 shade. This latter gives a fascinating charm to the picture. It is 
 to he regretted, however, that this face received some injury from a 
 peculiar circumstance. In 1799 Mr. Ilomney, when his powers 
 were almost extinct, took a fancy to make some alteration in the air 
 of this head : he began, hut could not proceed, and the face was 
 spoiled. In this state I found it some time after. All that could he 
 done in order to save the picture, was, to un-do ; hut the paint was 
 become hard. By the application of a linen rag moistened with spi- 
 rits of turpentine, and a certain degree of rubbing, the recent colour- 
 ing was at length removed ; hut not without some damage to the 
 original painting. Had it not been for this blemish, (which was by 
 no means obvious to an ordinary observer,) the picture would have 
 been inestimable. Both Mr. Cumberland and Mr. Hayley made some 
 endeavours to prevail on Trinity College, Cambridge, to purchase it, 
 the latter through Bishop Watson ; but without success. They said 
 they had Roubiliac’s statue, and that was sufficient. That sumptu- 
 ous society ought not to have suffered two or three hundred guineas 
 to have prevented them from possessing a picture, which, from the 
 very nature of its subject, would always have excited feelings ol 
 pleasure and honest pride, independent of its intrinsic excellence as 
 a painting. f heir having Roubiliac’s statue, should rather have in- 
 
237 
 
 duced them to purchase, than to reject this picture : because, though 
 they represented the same individual, yet being the productions of 
 different, though sister arts, they did not supersede one another; 
 but were, as it were, coadjutors to promote the same dignified object 
 — the honour of Newton and the College. Nothing certainly can 
 exceed the noble simplicity of that fine statue ; but still the subject is 
 more suitable to painting than to sculpture ; because it is, in fact, a 
 subject of colour. It may be remarked here, also, that Mr. Romney 
 painted the head of Newton from the same mask, from which Roubi- 
 liac had originally modelled the head of the statue ; which gave to 
 the picture all that individuality which is characteristic of a portrait. 
 — The injury done to the picture was subsequent to the refusal by 
 the College. 
 
 This leads me to mention another picture, which Mr. Romney 
 painted from a mask, for Mr. Beckford of Fonthill ; viz — that of 
 Alderman Beckford ; in which he is represented at full-length in the 
 robes of Lord Mayor, with the action, and in the attitude of an 
 orator : in allusion, S believe, to his celebrated reply to the King’s 
 answer to the address, remonstrance, and petition of the Lord Mayor 
 and Corporation of London, in 1 770, — and, I believe, from the 
 same mask, from which the statue in Guildhall was taken. 
 
 In 1795 he again painted the portrait of his old patron and friend, 
 the Duke of Richmond, half-length. 
 
 A whole-length of the Lari of Westmorland, which was sent to 
 Ireland. 
 
 An admirable picture of Mrs. Bosanquet and five children. 
 
 A whole-length of Governor Hastings. 
 
238 
 
 About this period he painted that excellent picture representing 
 Flaxman modelling the Bust of Hayley, attended hy his pupil, 
 Thomas Hayley; and Mr. Romney himself looking from behind. If 
 I were to select two companions for this noble production of his ge- 
 nius, 1 should place it between Raffaelle’s picture of Frederick Car 
 rondelet, and that by Rubens of The four Philosophers . All the 
 individuals represented in Mr. Romney’s picture are strong charac- 
 teristic likenesses, except his own, which is unfinished and unfavou- 
 rable. Flaxman’s is a true facsimile of nature; the picture, however, 
 never received the finishing touch. It having been claimed by Mr. 
 Hayley, in consequence of some vague expression inadvertently 
 uttered by Mr. Romney, about the time he was sitting, was accor- 
 dingly delivered to him in 1802; but only for his life. After his 
 decease, it was bequeathed to Mr. Greene, the solicitor, Mr. Romney’s 
 old and esteemed friend. This part of the bequest was made with my 
 concurrence; for though I was myself desirous of possessing the 
 picture, yet when I understood that Mr. Greene wished much to have 
 it, I waived my claim in his favour. Before it was put into Mr. 
 Hayley’s possession I had taken some steps to have it engraved, being 
 much grieved that so admirable a performance should be placed in 
 the obscure keeping of an individual, for whom I knew that Mr. 
 Hayley had intended it. Finding, however, that my attempt had 
 given him much umbrage, I reluctantly, and with regret, abandoned 
 my intention. It having now, however, become, by hereditary right, 
 the property of Air. Greene, the member for Lancaster, I hope by his 
 friendly concurrence and cooperation with me a w ell executed engra- 
 ving may be effected by the aid of a subscription, such as w ill do jus- 
 tice to the picture, and to the painter. If Air. Hayley had not in- 
 terfered I should have got Sharpe to have engraved it. It is a serious 
 
239 
 
 disadvantage to the professional character of Mr. Romney, that so 
 excellent a picture should never have been seen by the public. 
 
 Another fine picture, which he also painted about this time, was, 
 a Lady in the character of Titania, with her Children, as fairies, 
 shooting at bats, with bows and arrows. This was one of his best 
 performances, and was painted for the Earl of Egremont, a nobleman 
 for whom Mr. Romney always expressed great esteem. 
 
 In the winter of 1795 he painted a head of himself, which, though 
 slight, and not entirely finished, being painted at once, shews un- 
 common power of execution ; the likeness also, is strong, but there 
 is a certain expression of langour that indicates the approach of disease, 
 which had in fact already begun to assail his constitution. It is re- 
 markable that it is painted without spectacles, though he had been in 
 the habit of using glasses for many years. As I do not know in what 
 manner other painters, advanced in years, assist their vision by 
 the application of spectacles, it may, perhaps, be rendering some 
 service, to inform them that he used a pair containing two half glasses 
 for each eye, separated horizontally ; the lower segment for seeing 
 objects near, through w hich he always painted ; the upper, at a greater 
 distance, through which he judged of the effect. 
 
 I may mention here also, the three-quarters portrait of Isaac Reed, 
 the learned editor of Shakspeare, which was painted about this period; 
 and which Mr. Romney, with his usual liberality, gave to that mild 
 and benevolent man, as a token of his esteem; who, also, in return, 
 presented the painter w ith a set of his Shakspeare, accompanied with 
 the following letter. 
 
240 
 
 Staple Inn, November 7th, 1796, 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “Do me the favour to accept a set of the last edition of Shakspeare. 
 It is a small, in truth, a very small acknowledgment for the honour 
 you have done me, in painting the portrait of one, so little entitled to 
 expect the trouble you have taken about him. Every particle of 
 vanity I am possessed of is now completely gratified, and I feel great 
 satisfaction in reflecting that my name may probably go down to 
 posterity, accompanied by yours. Beyond it I have little desire and 
 less expectation of fame. I hope we shall meet to-morrow at the 
 Club, until which time, I remain, 
 
 “Dear Sir, 
 
 “Your obliged faithful servant, 
 
 “Isaac Heed.” 
 
 The last considerable picture he painted, was a Conversation Sub- 
 ject, containing the portraits of Mr. Ilayley, his Son, Mr. Meyer, 
 (the son of the late Jeremy Meyer, II. A.) and of the painter him- 
 self. All I know of it, is derived from the following letter, and from 
 Mr. I fay Icy’s description ; who was represented sitting at a table 
 with Tally’s Essay on Friendship before him, and the two youths 
 standing by. 
 
 Novr. 10th, 1796. 
 
 “ Dear John, 
 
 “ My last excursion has been longer and attended with greater 
 advantage to my health than formerly ; indeed it was so debilitated 
 that I meditated a longer stay than usual ; and, to continue and ex- 
 tend the time, and to amuse Mr. Hayley, I began a picture of four 
 
241 
 
 friends — Hayley, Tom, young- Meyer, and myself ; and completed 
 it which is thought one of my best. 
 
 “ The picture for Petworth I finished at Hay ley’s; it was very 
 much liked. 1 met with particular kindness from my Lord of Pet- 
 worth,” &c. 
 
 Here terminates Mr. Romney’s professional life : and I believe, I 
 may truly say, that the number of pictures painted by him during the 
 twenty one years lie resided in Cavendish Square, has not been ex- 
 ceeded by any oilier artist in the same period ; exclusive of an im- 
 mense quantity of unfinished portraits and other works, which had 
 been accumulated from various causes — and all this in the decline of 
 life, when his general health was infirm, when his application was 
 frequently interrupted by intervals of sickness, and when, latterly, his 
 genius had almost constantly to struggle with an oppressive and de- 
 bilitating languor. 
 
 it was a favorite idea of Mr. Romney’s in the decline of life, to 
 form a complete Gallery of Casts, and to open it to any youths of 
 respectability ; and thus to afford to others those facilities of study, 
 of which he himself had not had the benefit : so that when his own 
 practical powers should forsake him, he might still have the gratifi- 
 cation of promoting the acquirements of others by superintending 
 their studies himself — vice cotis. This scheme was in a great 
 measure visionary ; he had, however, at the close of his career, 
 three pupils who have since distinguished themselves ; viz. — Messrs. 
 Isaac Pocock, Lonsdale, and Stewardson. The first was with him 
 some time ; Mr. Lonsdale had the benefit of copying from his Casts, 
 and of studying his works, under his eye, during the spring of 1 799, 
 
 i i 
 
242 
 
 Mr. Romney having- been requested to afford him instruction by the 
 Duke of Hamilton. Mr. Stewardson was bis last pupil, and bad the 
 advantage of such instructions as be was able to communicate after 
 be went to reside at Kendal . 
 
 Mr. Robinson, another pupil who studied under him at an earlier 
 period* is entitled to respectful notice here on account of the affec- 
 tionate regard, which be has shewn for the memory of bis excellent 
 instructor, and of which be gave a striking proof in calling bis son by 
 the same name — now a gentleman of distinguished talents. Mr. 
 Robinson in the account which be gave to Mr. Hav fey respecting 
 Mr. Romney himself, was certainly incorrect, but bis observations on 
 bis art are in general true, and well worth transcribing here on ac- 
 count of their technical merit, being written by an artist well versed 
 in the mechanism of oil colours. “ His pencil was uncommonly rapid, 
 and to see him introduce the back ground into one of bis large pic- 
 tures, was something like enchantment. He was very anxious con- 
 cerning the preparation of bis colours ; the arrangement of bis flesh- 
 palette was very curious and simple, and in some of bis figures, 
 particularly in the arms, it is easy to trace the different gradations of 
 tints, as they stood on the palette. This may be observed in bis 
 most delicate flesh, particularly in the arms of a .Bacchante with a 
 dog, sent to Sir William Hamilton at Naples; in bis Serena in the 
 boat ; in the left arm of Mr. Henderson, in the character of Macbeth : 
 this last was the most finished of all his flesh colour, and be told me be 
 could go no farther. The head of Creon’s (Cercyon’s) daughter is 
 less finished than any oilier from the same lady, (Lady Hamilton; J 
 the child is very fine ; the drapery was painted in an hour from a 
 living model, which manner be preferred whenever be could accom- 
 
 * About 1785. 
 
plish it. The Lions were by Gilpin, and the picture was purchased 
 by Admiral Vernon. Perhaps the Girl spinning is the best picture he 
 painted at this period ; he first caught the idea from observing a cob- 
 ler’s wife sitting in a stall.’ 
 
 As few of Mr. Romney’s pictures have ever been before the public, 
 his professional character lias not had a fair opportunity of being 
 duly appreciated. To obviate in some measure this disadvantage, T 
 have noted several of his principal works in the course of these Me- 
 moirs ; but, unless they could be seen collectively, a just estimate of 
 his great talents cannot now be formed. 
 
 V_7 
 
 Some of the old members of the Royal Academy regarded him as 
 a kind of independent rival ; and, as he kept himself aloof from them, 
 entertained hostile feelings towards him, which they lost no opportu- 
 nity of expressing. There were others, however, among them, with 
 whom he lived on terms of friendship, and who were free from that 
 intolerant esprit da corps, so incompatible with the liberal spirit of 
 the arts. In more recent times, two highly gifted and distinguished 
 members of that body have stepped forward to vindicate his character. 
 This very act alone shews that they were above such narrow and illi- 
 beral prejudices. It may, perhaps, be objected against Mr. Flaxman, 
 that, as he was a particular friend of Mr. Romney, he might have 
 been biased in his judgment; but that very intimacy gave him abet- 
 ter opportunity of judging ; and any one who knew that accomplished 
 statuary, must be sensible that he was incapable of maintaining any 
 opinion contrary to the impartial conviction of his own mind. But 
 this objection cannot apply to Mr. Philips, who could have no motive 
 for his liberal critique on Mr. Romney’s genius, but the purest love 
 of truth and justice; for I am not aware that he was ever acquainted 
 
244 
 
 with Mr. Romney. I owe much gratitude to both these gentlemen 
 for their disinterested testimony to his genius. The laudari a lau- 
 dato viro is the highest meed of praise that a man of genius can ob- 
 tain ; and may they, when defunct, (as I grieve that the former is,) 
 have their merits extolled by eulogists like themselves. 
 
 The infirmities of old age came upon Mr. Romney sooner than he 
 expected ; he reckoned upon a longer life, and in truth, according 
 to tlie common course of vigorous nature, he might have retained his 
 faculties unimpaired for at least ten years longer. His constitution, 
 however, began to give way in his sixtieth year, (1794;) but his ge- 
 nius, like the light of a taper approaching to its extinction, occasio- 
 nally burst into lits of splendour during its decline. 
 
 The following extract from a letter addressed to me (March 15th, 
 1794) shews the nature of his pursuits and views; and indicates 
 strongly the irritability of his mind. “I have made many grand 
 designs, 1 have formed a system of original subjects, moral, and my 
 own — and 1 think one of the grandest that has been thought of — 
 but nobody knows it. — Hence it is my view to wrap myself in retire- 
 ment, and pursue these plans, as l begin to feel I cannot bear trouble 
 of any kind.” 
 
 He had studied Milton with much attention, and selected a series 
 of subjects from the Paradise Lost, for great pictures, both of a sub- 
 lime, and of a beautiful character. He had, also, formed a scheme 
 of painting a number of pictures, representing the most important 
 periods in human life ; and it was to this, probably, that he alluded 
 in the preceding extract. The first subject of this series, repre- 
 senting The Birth of Man, was considerably advanced. Another 
 great work, which lie commenced about 1790, was The Temptation 
 
245 
 
 of Christ. Had lie finished this picture, it would have ranked him 
 with Michael Angelo. It was equal in original conception and wild 
 fancy to any tiling- ever produced by any artist. When one looked 
 at Christ, silent passiveness was the idea which presented itself to the 
 spectator ; when at the fiends that assailed him, vociferating- noise 
 and boisterous insult. These visionary beings were the human pas- 
 sions and appetites personified. To aid the malevolent purpose, the 
 illusive representations, or ghosts of Eve and Noah, were called 
 forth. And the arch-fiend, the Miltonic satan, grand as the human 
 mind can conceive him, viewed from the upper corner of the picture, 
 with malignant satisfaction, the ready obedience of his imps*. The 
 canvass, as far as I remember, was about sixteen feet by twelve ; 
 the ground was a darkish brown, and the figures were drawn with 
 white chalk complete. St was all ready for painting, and the head 
 of Christ was nearly finished, and that of Satan begun. From the 
 darkness of the canvass, I should suppose that it was his intention to 
 have given a sombre hue, and gloomy effect to the whole picture, 
 corresponding both to the duskiness of the twilight, and to the cha- 
 racter of its infernal agents and their design ; and to have invested 
 them with a certain degree of obscurity, in order that the imagina- 
 tion of the spectator might have a sufficient latitude for the exercise 
 of its own exaggerations — omne ignotum pro magnilico. 1 do not re- 
 member his having- ever painted upon a canvass of so dark a ground 
 except once ; and that is an unfinished sketch in oil colours, in my 
 possession, representing the storming and burning of some city by 
 night, in which the light of the conflagration is thrown upon an in- 
 teresting- group of old men, women, and children. The 't emptation, 
 being of inconvenient size, had been rolled up ; and in that state 
 was sent to Christie’s auction room along with Mr. Ilonmey’s other 
 
 * Milton’s Paradise Regained, book 4, lines 422, 423, 424, 425. 
 
246 
 
 pictures ; not with any intention of exposing it for sale, but merely 
 that it might he seen by the public : unfortunately there was no space 
 for it, and it was never unrolled. An etching was to have been 
 made from it for Hayley’s Life of Mr. Romney ; hut the head of 
 Christ was only taken, and that very imperfectly, and I never knew 
 what became of the canvass after. In the Milton, which he was in 
 the habit of studying, all the most striking and picturesque passages 
 are marked, or underlined, by him ; so that it may be regarded as 
 a valuable painter’s book. 
 
 Mr. Romney was naturally of a placid and easy disposition, and 
 it was only in the decline of life, when his health was impaired by 
 application, and his feelings ruffled by peculiar circumstances, that 
 he manifested that morbidness of feeling, which Mr. Hayley has 
 been so particular in noticing. The love of retirement, combining 
 its influence with this diseased state of his mind, soon began to gene- 
 rate visionary and expensive schemes, which, instead of ministering 
 to his comfort, aggravated his infirmities. He had lived so long in 
 peculiar habits, that he had lost the just conception of that happiness, 
 which results from retirement; its impressions, however, still re- 
 mained on his memory, but distorted and exaggerated by the influ- 
 ence of a distempered imagination. From his youth he meditated on 
 retirement; it was a family propensity, or (as some, perhaps, may 
 think) failing ; his father felt its influence, and my sentiments will 
 appear from the following Sonnet, 
 
 My Wish. 
 
 O may it he my happy lot to dwell 
 
 With sweet Retirement, nymph of placid mien, 
 
 (Far from the proud, the heartless, and the mean,) 
 
247 
 
 In some sequester’d and romantic dell. 
 
 There wrapt in visions, by bright fancy’s spell, 
 
 Ofttimes I’d wander, pensive, and unseen, 
 
 1 > v some lone brook, where poets might, 1 ween, 
 
 To rocks and trees their plaintive sorrows tell, 
 
 As Orpheus did of old. And may there be 
 Attendant on my steps, that holy maid, 
 
 Heavenly Meditation ; so that she 
 May pour on me by her inspiring- aid, 
 
 Visions of future bliss when soul is free, 
 
 And in the dust the mortal body laid. 
 
 Without being* romantic, however, my experience, and my feelings 
 inform me, that the diversified enjoyments, arising from the contem- 
 plation of picturesque scenery in a romantic country, through the 
 changing seasons of the year, and under every accident and circum- 
 stance of atmosphere; — from rural occupations and pursuits, (especially 
 those connected with the cultivation of woods,) which inspire the mind 
 with that philosophy, which lifts it from visible objects to the invisible 
 creator of all things; — and from the cultivated society of domestic 
 life, where elegant pursuits, and literature are the substitutes for 
 cards and scandal — far, very far surpass any gratifications which dis- 
 sipation, or the gaieties of the world can afford; where rainbow 
 pleasure lures by its splendour, but eludes the grasp of its thoughtless 
 and giddy pursuers. The love of retirement is not altogether con- 
 stitutional; it is the result of nature and habit conjointly; for if a 
 man’s mind be naturally so organized as to be susceptible of strong 
 impressions from picturesque objects; and if he be frequently exposed 
 in early youth to loneliness and solitude, surrounded by the sublimer 
 features of nature, he will necessarily seek amusement from contem- 
 
248 
 
 plating the objects around him; and soon acquire habits of self- 
 enjoyment independent of society. The tranquilizing- pleasures 
 derived from such habits, will remain deeply impressed upon his 
 memory ; and, in the decline of life, when he becomes disgusted with 
 the follies, and harassed by the molestations of the world, will make 
 him long for a renewal for his early enjoyments. 
 
 Mr. Romney passed the first years of his life in a situation, and 
 under circumstances, favourable for such impressions. The first ob- 
 ject that presented itself to his daily vision, was the broad expanse of 
 the boundless ocean, always sublime, but there picturesque, and 
 beautiful also. The site of his father’s house was on a kind of terrace, 
 facing the west, and commanding- an extensive view of the Irish sea; 
 but from the hill immediately behind, the prospect was a perfect 
 panorama. On the south lies the widely extending- bay of Morecambe, 
 with its low and unaspiring- outline; and on the north, the retiring- 
 estuary of Duddon, which, when the tide is in, presents to the eye a 
 picturesque view of uncommon beauty. It lias all the appearance of 
 a fine lake when viewed upwards. Vessels of light burthen might 
 be frequently seen navigating it, which gave a pleasing variety, and 
 animation to the scene ; especially, in hue weather, when the white 
 sails were relieved by the dark masses of shadow, which sometimes 
 skimmed over the surface of the water. The high grounds on the 
 Cumberland side, being well cultivated, and studded with white farm- 
 houses and respectable mansions, also enlivened the prospect. Be- 
 hind these, the sombre Black-Comb rose majestically, with its summit 
 generally enveloped in a white or grey cloud in unsettled weather. 
 More to the north, and in the distance, might be seen the pointed 
 summits of the Scaw-Fell, and other adjacent mountains; hut the 
 most picturesque about the lakes are those of Conistone; especially 
 
249 
 
 the Old Man, which appears conspicuously to crown the head of the 
 Duddon estuary. Behind, to the east, is the fertile district of Furness, 
 with its winding* vales, and swelling eminences: and the whole circum- 
 scribed by a range of distant mountains. — Such was the scenery that 
 constantly met Mr. Romney's eye during the most impressible period of 
 his life; varied often by storms and tempests, often by brilliant and glow- 
 ing sunsets, often by that wild and skimming action of the clouds, 
 which forebodes storm, or by that gloominess of atmosphere, or dark 
 accumulation of cloud ill the horizon, which foretells rain. The 
 thunder storm approaching across the sea in a dark evening, from the 
 distant streak which marked the horizon, till the ocean, and the 
 hemisphere became one vast sheet of light ; must have afforded him 
 Hue ideas of the sublime. The fretful, and incessant roaring of the 
 distant breakers, or the swelling bursts of thunder, bringing danger 
 as they increased in sound, must, in like manner, have impressed his 
 mind with similar ideas, through the medium of a different organ. — 
 The very first historical picture that Mr. Romney painted, was 
 King Lear in a thunder storm. 
 
 Although it is pretty evident that he must have gathered considera- 
 ble instruction from books, as has been already remarked; yet, till 
 he went to London, nature may be regarded as his chief instructress; 
 it was she whom he worshipped as his professional divinity; but as her 
 inspirations are slowly imparted, and the communications from art 
 rapid, his progress in his profession while he continued in the country, 
 must have been greatly retarded. Judging, however, from what he 
 then produced under such untoward circumstances, we may easily 
 conceive what mighty works would have issued from his hands, had 
 his genius, in due time, been directed to its proper objects ; if instead 
 of observing his ingenious father carve Corinthian capitals and 
 
 K K 
 
250 
 
 make fiddles, or of learning- from Williamson to play upon the violin, 
 the mysteries of the Elgin Marbles had been revealed to him, with 
 all their imposing influence. Notwithstanding, however, the many 
 disadvantages under which he laboured, if his life and powers had 
 been spared ten years longer, he would have produced, I am confi- 
 dent, pictures of the heroic, or imaginative character, superior to any 
 thing that has hitherto appeared in this country. 
 
 When 1 visited Mr. Romney in 1790 I found him occupied in mak- 
 ing plans of fantastic buildings, instead of studies for pictures as 
 heretofore. It was evident that his mind was thrown of its pivot, and 
 that painting had lost its influence. He was on the point of signing 
 a contract for four acres of ground, on the Edgeware Road, at a rent 
 of forty pounds per annum, for his life ; with a stipulation that he 
 should build a house upon it under certain restrictions. I soon per- 
 ceived that it would be attended with more expense than his limited 
 circumstances would allow, and, therefore, endeavoured to dissuade 
 him from it, by representing to him the advantage of buying a ready 
 built house. And, there being one at that time on sale, at Holly 
 Bush Hill, Hampstead, his favourite retreat, to which he might ea- 
 sily have added a gallery and painting-room, at a small expense ; I 
 recommended it to his notice. Being made sensible of the prudence 
 of my suggestion, he authorized me to call on Sir James Graham, to 
 stop all further proceedings with respect to the purchase of the land 
 on the Edgeware Road : and, though the writings were ready, and 
 nothing further remained to be performed except the signature ; yet 
 that gentleman, with rare liberality and kindness, allowed him to 
 revoke his intention, and would not accept of any remuneration for 
 his trouble. I mention this circumstance with peculiar pleasure, both 
 out of gratitude to the memory of that esteemed gentleman, and also. 
 
251 
 
 because, having- myself experienced much evil from attornies, 1 am 
 happy in being- able to produce one instance of redeeming worth in 
 that dangerous profession. The house at Hampstead was accordingly 
 bought upon low terms, (about seven hundred pounds,) and for about 
 live hundred more, he might have added a gallery, which would have 
 answered all his purposes. — Thus 1 left him, and, as 1 flattered my- 
 self, extricated from a ruinous project. He was, however, unfor- 
 tunately, under the influence of some worthless people, who profited 
 by his imprudence. By them, and also by Mr. Hayley, he was still 
 encouraged in the scheme of building. T he house was a very good 
 one, and convenient in all respects ; with a very large garden plea- 
 santly situated, and an excellent stable, coach house, fee., above 
 the garden, on the top of the hill. In 1797 and 1798, having pulled 
 down the stable fee., he built a new one upon some adjoining ground, 
 which he had subsequently purchased ; and upon the site of the old 
 stable he raised a whimsical structure, consisting chiefly of a picture 
 and statue gallery ; but with few domestic accommodations : to this 
 he also joined half the garden, in which he built a wooden arcade for 
 a riding house. Hither he removed at Christmas, 1798, before the 
 walls were dry, and let the old house at Hampstead for a rent which 
 paid good interest for the original purchase money. The removal of 
 his pictures, casts, (fee., was attended with considerable expense ; 
 and for want of adequate room, the pictures were crammed into all 
 vacant places, or arranged along the arcade, where, being* exposed 
 in the open air to the alternate action of moisture and frost, they were 
 almost entirely destroyed in the course of the winter ; several, also, 
 were stolen. The expense of the new building amounted to two 
 thousand, seven hundred, and thirty three pounds, besides many in- 
 cidental charges of which there was no account. This structure and 
 its appurtenances, when afterwards sold by auction, produced no 
 
262 
 
 more than three hundred and fifty seven pounds ; and the old house, 
 curtailed of the stables, and of so large a part of the garden, 
 fetched a price equal to the original purchase money. — Such was the 
 unfortunate result of his building scheme. 
 
 He sold the lease of his house in Cavendish Square to Mr. Shee, and 
 superadded, as far as it was in his power to confer it, the good will 
 also ; and as a test of his countenance , sat to him for his portrait. 
 This picture, however, without any reflection upon that distinguished 
 artist, was not a fair representation of his physiognomy ; because it 
 was taken at a time when he was oppressed with mental languor, and 
 when his faculties were in some degree impaired. It does not give 
 that keen and penetrating look, which formerly indicated the power 
 of his genius, it only represents a mental ruin, made more conspi- 
 cuous, perhaps, by the accuracy of the similitude. In mentioning 
 the name of Mr. Slice, I should not do justice to my own feelings, 
 were I to omit to express the high sense I entertain of his personal 
 worth, which 1 had many opportunities of witnessing during the short 
 time I had the honour of his acquaintance. With respect to his pro- 
 fessional talents, his own works will bear sufficient testimony to his 
 genius, without any encomium from one, who is so little entitled to 
 dispense praise ; but I hope I may be permitted to say of him, what, 
 I believe, cannot be said of any other living artist ; that he excells in 
 three different, but sister arts — painting, poetry, and music. 
 
 I did not see Mr. Romney again till he visited the north, in the 
 summer of 1798, when he was become more corpulent, and apparently 
 more healthy ; but this appearance was fallacious, and I soon percei- 
 ved that the energy of his mind was impaired. He still, however, 
 could take likenesses with great accuracy ; hut not having any oil 
 
253 
 
 colours with him, his attempts were only in crayons. I took him to 
 the lakes, and to the scenes of his youth ; but they did not seem to 
 afford him that degree of gratification, which one might have expect- 
 ed in a man formerly so alive to the beauties of nature. I apprehend 
 that he must already have experienced some slight paralytic affection, 
 which, I have no doubt, took place while he was engaged with the 
 picture of The Temptation of Christ, and which consequently put a 
 stop to that grand design. In the following winter, (1798,) he com- 
 plained of a swimming in his head, so that he could not see with 
 precision, and was frequently rubbing the back of his hand, where he 
 felt a numbness. It was on this occasion that he told me, he had had 
 a slight paralytic stroke ; probably a second attack. 
 
 The next summer he came again to Kendal, when he purchased 
 the place where I now reside. Feeling his infirmities grow upon him, 
 he did not venture to return to Hampstead, but authorized me to sell 
 his house at that place. 
 
 It would be desirable to throw a veil over the closing years of his 
 life, and hide the infirmities of human nature ; but such exhibitions 
 sometimes have a moral tendency, and serve to humble the vanity of 
 man. Reason, that noble faculty of the mind, which distinguishes 
 man from the brute creation, and enables him to hold communion 
 with his Maker, became entirely extinct before the dissolution of the 
 body ; and lie departed from life mentally the same as when he came 
 into existence. However distressing his case was to those about him, 
 it is a consolation to think, that he was unconscious of his situation, 
 and never suffered any bodily pain whatever. He died November 
 l*5th, 1802, when he had nearly completed his sixty eighth year. As 
 his sole ambition was to excel in his art, he never aspired to any 
 
254 
 
 other distinction. He never sought to be admitted into any Society, 
 and had no desire to affix titles to his name. The habits of his whole 
 life were simple, and unostentatious ; and like them, also, were the 
 circumstances connected with his death, which were, in every respect, 
 a contrast to those of his more fortunate contemporaries ; who w ere 
 honoured with public funerals, had their bodies deposited in St. 
 Paul’s, and monuments or statues erected to their fame ; while the 
 canopy of heaven is the dome of his Mausoleum, and the green grass 
 which fringes his gravestone, the only ornament of his tomb. Cir- 
 cumstanced as he w as at the time of his death, the only thing I could 
 do, and what I deemed w ould be most grateful to his spirit, could he 
 be made sensible of it, was to inter his remains with those of his an- 
 cestors, and to honour the place of his birth by raising a simple 
 monument in Dalton church. When it was finished and taken thither, 
 I went to point out to the mason the place where I intended it should 
 be erected ; which w as in fact, the only proper situation in the church. 
 1 was much surprised, however, w hen iwas made to understand from 
 Lord George Cavendish’s local steward, that that part of the wall 
 belonged to his Lordship. Though tins was announced to me in a 
 manner expressive of prohibition ; yet i felt no particular uneasiness, 
 from the intimation, (except a little mortification at the delay and 
 trouble it would occasion ;) being confident that, whether the situation 
 did, or did not belong to his Lordship, lie, as a liberal minded man, 
 would make no objection to its being appropriated to so noble a 
 purpose; but w ould rather be glad of such an opportunity to testify 
 his respect for genius. 1 accordingly w rote to his Lordship ; but am 
 sorry to say, his answer w as not only a refusal without a reason, 
 but a reproof for my not having informed myself better. I knew T 1 
 had the vicar’s permission, which I thought sufficient. In consequence 
 of this, I made some inquiry, and was informed that his Lordship’s 
 right was founded on this — the chancel belonged to his Lordship as 
 
255 
 
 lay -rector, and when the church was new roofed, the former Lord 
 George roofed the chancel at the same time ; but as the timber did 
 not correspond to the division, lie roofed as far as the next rafters, the 
 line of which divided the pier where the monument was intended to 
 have been placed. How far this circumstance has conferred a right 
 1 have not taken the trouble to inquire ; but that part of the church 
 still belongs to the parish, and I should suppose the walls also : at the 
 most, it could only be a divided right, and ought not to have been 
 exercised in opposition to the parish. I, however, felt no disposition 
 to resist ; it did not become a pigmy to contend with a giant. The 
 favour certainly was not great, and it is, therefore, difficult to account 
 for the refusal. It could not have arisen from any personal motives, 
 because, I believe, I was totally unknown to his Lordship ; and I am 
 sure Mr. Romney could never have done any thing to incur his dis- 
 pleasure : there was a minor circumstance which might, perhaps, have 
 awakened feelings of a different kind : — Lady Elizabeth Compton 
 was a sitter to Mr. Itonmey at the time when Lord George paid his 
 addresses to her Ladyship, and his Lordship’s name being in Mr. 
 Romney’s sitting book about that time, 1 apprehend that he must 
 have attended at some of her sittings. With respect to the fact itself, 
 in whatever light it is considered, it is not only an insult to the me- 
 mory of Mr. Romney, but an indignity offered to genius in general, 
 such as is not easily paralleled in the worst ages of the world, and quite 
 incompatible with the liberal and enlightened spirit of the present times.* 
 
 * Some years after writing the above, having occasion to visit Dalton church for the pur- 
 pose of seeing the register, I was not a little wonder-struck to find the pier occupied by a 
 showy monument, erected to Lord George’s lately deceased local steward. Had this indivi- 
 dual been distinguished bv any real merit, I should not have regretted the substitution ; but his 
 pretensions were of a questionable character, and better fitted for the silence of the grave. He 
 had, to be sure, amassed great wealth by stewardships, and the practice of an attorney, which 
 made him lordly ; but, as I respect no man except for personal worth, I incurred his enmity 
 by not paying particular court to him, and have reaped the bitter fruits of it upon more occa- 
 sions than one. 
 
If this had been a private affair affecting myself individually, I 
 should not have mentioned it here; but it is so closely connected with 
 Mr. Romney’s life, that I feel myself in duty bound to record it for 
 my own justification, and to prevent any opprobrium that might 
 attach to me for a supposed neglect of filial duty and regard. The 
 monument was taken back to Kendal, the place where Mr. Romney 
 had breathed his last, and erected to greater advantage in the church 
 there, as a cenotaph. It simply records his birth and death, with a 
 brief expression of eulogy on his genius. 
 
 THE END. 
 
257 
 
 A DESCRIPTIVE LIST 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PICTORIAL DESIGNS AND STUDIES 
 
 BY GEORGE ROMNEY, 
 
 Which mere presented to the University of Cambridge by his Son , in 1817, in 
 order to be deposited in the Fitzwilliam Museum . 
 
 Exprimere affectus, paucisque coloribus ipsam 
 Pingere posse animam, atque occulis prsebere videndam, 
 Hoc opus, liic labor est. Dufresnoy. 
 
 1. Consists of sixteen studies, which were made during- Mr. Rom- 
 ney’s residence at Rome, and soon after his return to England. 
 1st and 2nd. Two sketches of a naked female caressing a child ; 
 
 perhaps intended for Alope the daughter of Cercyon. 
 
 3rd. Venus and Adonis. 
 
 4th. Perhaps the same subject differently represented. — On the 
 other side of the paper is a sketch of Jupiter. 
 
 5th. Another representation of Jupiter. 
 
 6th. Another variation of the same subject. 
 
 L L 
 
258 
 
 7th. King- Lear asleep. 
 
 8th. King Lear awake. 
 
 9th. Ceyx and Alcyone. 
 
 10th, 11th, and 12th. Four variations of Medea. 
 
 13th. The destruction of Niobe’s children. 
 
 14th and 15th. Two designs of the Cum jean Sibyl, foretelling to 
 /Lucas his future destiny. 
 
 Kith. Electra and Orestes at the Tomb of Agamemnon. 
 
 II. Two sketches of the interior of St. Peter’s at Rome. 
 
 III. 1 st. Thetis supplicating Jupiter. — Iliad, book 1st. 
 
 2nd and 3rd. Thetis comforting Achilles. — Iliad, book 18th. 
 
 IV. Eight sketches of females, in different characters. 
 
 1st. Una. 
 
 2nd. A Woman caressing a lap-dog. 
 
 3rd. Hebe. 
 
 4th. Psyche. 
 
 5th. Pensierosa. 
 
 6th. A Mother instructing her child. 
 
 7th. A Mother with her child in her arms, flying upon the ram- 
 parts of a city in flames. 
 
 8th. A similar subject, 
 
 V. 1st. Celadon and Amelia; from Thompson’s Seasons. 
 
 2nd. Damon and Musidora ; likewise from Thompson’s Seasons. 
 3rd. The Damsel ; from the ballad, “ ['was when the seas were 
 roaring, ” &c. Or perhaps a personification of Sorrow. 
 
 4th. A Sibyl. 
 
 VI. Three sketches of the Lapland Witch. 
 
 VI I. Three sketches from the fable of Cupid and Psyche. 
 
 VIII. 1st, The infancy of Shakspeare. Mr. Romney made a vari- 
 ety of designs from this subject; dear to him because he delighted 
 
259 
 
 in painting- women and children, and because he almost venera- 
 ted Shakspeare. 
 
 2nd. Nature unveiling herself to the Infant Shakspeare. 
 
 IX. 1st. The dying Mother, EAxe T«/av. x. r. L from the Anthol. Gr. 
 
 2nd. Lear and Cordelia. Something in the style of Guercino. 
 
 3rd. Homer reciting his verses. Not unlike the manner of Rem- 
 brandt. 
 
 X. 1st. David and Said. 
 
 2nd. A study of the head of Saul. 
 
 XL These four studies were designed for an Altar-piece for King’s 
 College Chapel. The picture was to have been presented to the 
 College by the Right Honourable Thomas Orde, (Lord Dolton ;) 
 hut he was anticipated by the Earl of Carlisle, who gave the 
 present Altar-piece. — The picture was in fact considerably ad- 
 vanced, and it is to be regretted that Lord Carlisle’s donation 
 should have prevented its completion. 
 
 XII. Shakspeare. 
 
 1st. Macbeth and Banquo. 
 
 2nd. The Weird Sisters. 
 
 3rd. Head of Edgar. — “ Edgar. How to prevent the fiend and to 
 kill vermin.’ 1 — King Lear. 
 
 XIII. 1st. Venus. 
 
 2nd. From Gray’s Descent of Odin. 
 
 3rd. From the ballad, “’Twas when the seas were roaring.” 
 
 XIV. This design might apply to either of these passages in Scripture : 
 “And darkness was upon the face of the deep, and the spirit of God 
 moved upon the face of the waters.” — Gen. 1 cli. 2 v. “And he 
 shall spread forth his hands in the midst of them, as he that 
 swimmeth spreadetli forth his hands to swim.” — Isaiah 25 ch. II v. 
 Whatever was Mr. Romney’s intention when he composed it, it 
 
260 
 
 is certainly a sublime idea : but, perhaps, too sublime for man 
 to adventure upon. 
 
 XV. Consists of four sketches. 
 
 Two of a Mother and child. 
 
 And two of nude Children. 
 
 XVI. I do not recollect any passage from which the subject of these 
 two designs is taken. 
 
 XVII. The subject of these eleven designs was given by Richard 
 Cumberland, Esq., “A group of Bacchantes are assisting at the 
 initiation of a Rustic Nymph. They assail her senses with 
 wine, music, and dance ; she hesitates ; and in the moment, be- 
 twixt the allurements of pleasure, and the scruples of bashfulness, 
 accepts the Thyrsis in one hand, and seizes the goblet with the 
 other. Triumph and revelry possess the whole group, and every 
 attitude of gaiety, every luxuriancy of scenery enriches, and en- 
 flames the composition.” — The variety of compositions which Mr. 
 Romney has made from it, sufficiently shews his persevering ef- 
 forts to attain to perfection. And had the picture, which he 
 actually began, and which was abandoned In consequence of 
 some ludicrous and indelicate observations of a wit, been finished 
 in his usual style of painting beautiful women, It would have 
 been pre-eminent in beauty and grace. 
 
 XVIII. These two sketches which represent Fortune-telling, are si- 
 milar in their composition to those of the preceding number. 
 They are executed with masterly freedom. 
 
 XIX. The Ghost ofClytemnestra, from the Eumenides of iEschylus. 
 The dignity of the personages, and the chaste simplicity of the 
 composition give to this design an affecting grandeur. From 
 the display that Mr. Romney has made of the figure of Apollo, 
 I should conjecture that it was his intention, had he painted a 
 
261 
 
 picture on this subject, to have given such elegance and symme- 
 try of form to the God, as would correspond with his epithet, 
 formosus. 
 
 XX. These three slight sketches represent Eurydice vanishing from 
 Orpheus. — Vide Virgil. 
 
 XXI. 1st. Harpalice, a Thracian Princess, defending her wounded 
 father. — Bayle’s Dictionary. 
 
 2nd. Palis dying, found and lamented by some mountain Nymphs. 
 — Quintus Calaber. 
 
 3rd. A nurse, who had carelessly suffered her children to get into a 
 boat, is terrified at their danger when she saw it part from the 
 shore. 
 
 4th. do. 
 
 XXI I. Contains two studies for the two pictures which he painted, 
 of the Spinning Woman, and of Alope the daughter of Cercyon. 
 
 XXI 11. As far as 1 remember, Mr. Romney said that this subject 
 represented I fume in some domestic scene. 
 
 XXIV. This exquisite composition represents a Dream which Mr. 
 Romney once had, and which he committed to paper while the 
 impression was still strong upon his memory. 
 
 XXV. The subject of this slight sketch is, A young Girl grieving 
 for a Fawn, which had just been killed by lightning, '['lie back 
 ground was to represent a past thunder-storm. 
 
 XXV I . These three designs are taken from the pastoral romance of 
 Longus. It was the intention of Mr. Romney to have painted 
 two pictures of the size of life, of which these were the studies. 
 And he had prepared a place behind his painting-room to which 
 cattle might be brought, in order that he might paint them di- 
 rectly from nature. It is to be regretted that other engagements 
 at the time interfered with this scheme. 
 
262 
 
 XXVII. These eight sketches are taken from Mr. Hayley’s Essay 
 on Old-maids. A work which reflects no credit on its author, 
 whatever merit it may have had in suggesting these designs. 
 
 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and perhaps 6, are from an Antediluvean frag- 
 ment, in the second volume, which offends by the affectation of 
 scriptural language. The subjects of 7, and 8, are in the third 
 volume, quoted from Achilles Tatius. — The Rape of Kunaza (5) 
 is designed with all the force and spirit of Raffaelle. 
 
 XXVIII. These two designs are taken from the subjoined narrative, 
 which T found among Mr. Romney’s papers. Whether the cir- 
 cumstances contained in it are real or fictitious I cannot pretend 
 to say ; but the simplicity and pathos with which they are de- 
 scribed, seem to me to give them the character of truth. It may 
 probably be in print, but 1 do not recollect to have seen it. You 
 will observe a very slight sketch of a skeleton suspended in the 
 right corner of that design, which represents the dissecting room. 
 
 “ About seventeen years ago a young* woman from the coun- 
 try, of a very agreeable person, was servant to a man, who had 
 all the vices attendant on the corruption of large cities. Struck 
 with her charms, he tried all methods of seduction. She was 
 virtuous, she resisted. Her discretion only inflamed the passion 
 of her master, who, not being able to prevail with her, devised 
 the blackest and most abominable revenge. He clandestinely 
 put into her box, where she kept her clothes, several things be- 
 longing to himself, and marked with his own name ; he then ex- 
 claimed he was robbed, sent for a constable, and made his 
 deposition. When the box was opened, the effects which he 
 claimed, were known. The poor girl, being imprisoned, had 
 only tears for her defence ; and all that she said in answer to the 
 interrogatories, was, that she was innocent. Our criminal 
 
263 
 
 jurisprudence cannot be sufficiently condemned, when we consi- 
 der that the judges had no suspicion of the wickedness of the 
 accuser, and that they enforced the law in its utmost rigour; a 
 rigour that is extreme, and which ought to be banished from 
 our code, and give place to a simple chastisement, which would 
 leave fewer robberies unpunished. 
 
 “ Innocent as she was, she was condemned to he hanged. She 
 was unskilfully executed, it being the first essay of the executi- 
 oner’s son. A surgeon bought the body. As he was preparing 
 that evening to dissect it, he perceived some remains of warmth; 
 the knife dropt from his hands, and he put into his bed her whom 
 he was going to anatomize. 
 
 “ His endeavours to restore her to life succeeded; at the same 
 time he sent for an ecclesiastic, with whose discretion and ex- 
 perience he was well acquainted; as well to consult him on this 
 strano-e event, as to make him a witness of his conduct. At the 
 moment when the unfortunate girl opened her eyes she thought 
 herself in the other world, and seeing the figure of the priest, who 
 had a large head, and features strongly marked, (for I know him, 
 and from him had this account,) she clasped her hands with terror, 
 and exclaimed, Eternal Father, you know my innocence, hare 
 mercy on me ! She did not cease to invoke the ecclesiastic, think- 
 ing she saw God himself. It was long before she could be 
 convinced that she was not dead, so strongly the idea of pu- 
 nishment and death had impressed her imagination. Nothing 
 could be more affecting, or more expressive, than this exclama- 
 tion of an innocent soul, to him whom she considered as her 
 supreme Judge; and without her endearing beauty, this sight 
 alone was sufficient to interest strongly a man of sensibility and 
 observation. What a picture for a painter! what a narration 
 for a philosopher! what a lesson for a lawyer!” 
 
264 
 
 XXIX. Gil Mortice; from Percy’s Reliques of ancient English 
 Poetry. 
 
 XXX. These three designs are taken from the twelfth book of Stati- 
 ns’ Thebaid, and represent Argia and Antigone with the dead 
 body of Polynices. 
 
 1st. Argia and Antigone discovering one another. 
 
 2nd and 3rd. When they are admonished by Minsetes of the ap- 
 proach of morning. — They are all conceived with much taste and 
 feeling : the third is particularly fine, and remarkable for the 
 beautiful effect of light. 
 
 o 
 
 XXXI. Four sketches, the subjects of which are not familiar to me; 
 the fourth is slight and imperfect, but fine. 
 
 XXXII. 1st. The Grecian Daughter. 
 
 2nd. This subject was given by Mr. Hayley. — “ Two elegant Girls 
 chasing of a butterfly in a garden ; the first, a girl about ten or 
 eleven, is on the point of catching it; the elder, about seventeen, 
 surprised and intercepted by her lover, a youth springing from 
 a thicket.” 
 
 XXXIII. These two are studies from nature, and probably what 
 Mr. Romney had seen in his walks. — It is only by studying 
 simple and unsophisticated nature, that an artist can acquire a 
 pure and chaste manner. 
 
 XXXIV. This design represents a veteran Soldier endeavouring to 
 seduce a youth from the arms of his sweet-heart, by inspiring 
 him with ardour for military glory. The great object of the pic- 
 ture would have been, to depict in the countenance of the youth, 
 the conflict of contending passions; and in that of the female, her 
 distressed feelings as she endeavours to dissuade him. 
 
 XXXV. A Mother and two daughters; a sketch for portraits. 
 
 XXXVJ. Three sketches on subjects of magic. 
 
265 
 
 1st. A Witch displaying her magical powers. 
 
 2nd and 3rd. Represent resuscitation by force of magic. 
 
 XXXVII. Shakspeare. 
 
 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. These seven sketches were studies for the 
 picture of the Tempest which Mr. Romney painted for the Boy- 
 dell Gallery. “Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have 
 put the wild waters in this roar,” <&c. 
 
 8th. A sketch for an intended companion to the above picture. 
 
 XXXVIII. Shakspeare. 
 
 1st. King Henry IV, act 2nd, scene 4th. “Dol Tearsheet. Cap- 
 tain ! Thou abominable damn’d cheater,” &c. — This is a very 
 slight sketch ; but it is interesting, first, because it is a specimen 
 of Mr. Romney’s manner of composing ; because it is in fact a 
 fine composition, and full of character; and because it shews 
 that he had a correct conception of the comique in character. 
 The head of Falstaff bears some resemblance to Henderson. 
 
 2nd and 3rd. Falstaff. 
 
 XXXIX. Shakspeare. 
 
 1st. Joan d’ Arc and the Fiends. — Henry \ I, part 1st. 
 
 2nd. Studies of the Fiends. 
 
 XL. Shakspeare. 
 
 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Margery Jourdain and Bolingbroke conjuring 
 up the Fiend. — Henry VI, part 2nd, act 1st, scene 4th. 
 
 4th and 5th. Studies of the Fiend’s head. 
 
 XLI. Shakspeare. Macbeth. The subject of these three sketches 
 is the Banquet scene and the Ghost of Banquo. Mr. Romney 
 made another, an improvement of his former ideas, and on which 
 his mind reposed with satisfaction ; but which disappeared so 
 suddenly as to leave suspicion of theft. The loss was very seri- 
 ous indeed, as it prevented him from painting a picture on this 
 
 M M 
 
266 
 
 subject, in which he had intended to have introduced the portraits 
 of several of his friends. He had prepared a large cartoon to 
 draw it upon in the first place ; hut when he looked for the 
 sketch in the portfolio, behold it was missing. 
 
 XLII. Shakspeare. Hecate. — Macbeth, act 3rd, scene 5th. 
 
 XLIII. Shakspeare. Macbeth, act 4th, scene 1st. — “ Macbeth. 
 Tell me thou unknown power.” 
 
 1st. Represents the whole composition. 
 
 2nd, 3rd, and 4th. Are parts on a larger scale with variations. 
 Though these sketches consist of few strokes, yet they are bold, 
 and masterly ; and indicate a mind rich in invention, and a hand 
 powerful in execution. 
 
 XLIV. Shakspeare. Macbeth, act 4th, scene 1st. These two 
 sketches do not represent precisely the same moment of time, 
 but may be applied as follows. 
 
 1st. “ Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo.” 
 
 2nd. “ And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass,” Ac. They 
 combine all that constitutes excellence in design, — simpli- 
 city and grandeur of composition, powerful effect, and great 
 force and strength of character. 
 
 XLV. Shakspeare. Four slight sketches of Titania and her Fairies. 
 
 XLVI. These nine sketches were studies for one or two large pic- 
 tures which Mr. Romney intended to have painted, representing 
 some of those scenes of human wretchedness which might be 
 supposed to have met the eye of the philanthropist, Howard, 
 in his perilous visits to the Lazzarettos and prisons abroad. 
 
 XLV1I. These four sketches from Milton were the last Mr. Rom- 
 ney ever made. 
 
267 
 
 THE 
 
 FOLLOWING CARTOONS, 
 
 DESIGNED 
 
 BY GEORGE ROMNEY, 
 
 Were presented, to the Liverpool Royal Institution in 1823 by the Rev. John 
 Romney , through its illustrious president and promoter, William Roscoe, Esq. 
 
 10. Eight on the subject of Cupid and Psyche. 
 Two of Orpheus and Eurydice. 
 
 11. Prometheus chained, sketch. 
 
 12. Descent of Odin. 
 
 13. Medea. 
 
 14. Infant Shakspeare. 
 
 15. Birth of Shakspeare. 
 
 16. Death of Cordelia. 
 
 1 7. Ghost of Darius. 
 
 18. Atossa’s Dream. 
 

APPENDIX. 
 

 
 I 
 
271 
 
 SOME PARTICULARS RESPECTING 
 THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 PETER ROMNEY, 
 
 GATHERED FROM, OR ILLUSTRATED BY HIS OWN 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 PETER ROMNEY was born on the 1st of June, 1743, and came 
 to study with his brother George at Kendal, at Whitsuntide, 1759, 
 being then only sixteen years old. He continued with him till the 
 latter went to London in March, 1702, thus making the period of his 
 instruction somewhat less than three years, including the preparatory 
 science of mixing and combining colours, drawing, <fec. The cast of 
 Peter’s mind, and his romantic turn will appear from the following 
 extract addressed to his brother George sometime after the latter 
 had arrived in London. It is evidently written under temporary 
 depression of spirits occasioned by close application to his art. While 
 he studied with his brother, he was so addicted to scribbling verses, 
 that it materially interfered with his professional studies ; and it was 
 therefore, deemed proper to prohibit him : it is in allusion to this 
 circumstance that he complains. It may be proper, also, to observe 
 that these were the effusions of a youth whose education had been 
 
272 
 
 very defective, and who had had few opportunities to cultivate his 
 understanding-. 
 
 “ I never felt the loss of you so much as at present. A wretched 
 place indeed ! Not one individual to speak to the day long, or at 
 any time else, that is worth hearing or conversing with, except Tom 
 Walker* ; and he, alas ! has entered so deeply into the wilderness of 
 trade, that he dares not cast one slight look aside, or stop one short 
 moment in the delightful openings, when he meets with them, lest he 
 miss the dusky path, and lose himself : and he is now gone to Ches- 
 ter fair, so that I am quite desolate. — When I am wearied with paint- 
 ing how must I recreate myself? I hardly know, for writing I 
 have laid aside : and as for reading, there is no kind of books I can 
 now enjoy except one, which is the easy natural. — For the philoso- 
 phical strains my intellects ; the droll makes my head ache with 
 laughing ; the pathetic hurts my breast and eyes with sighs and weep- 
 ing ; the sublime raises too much admiration, which blinds my dis- 
 cernment; the divine inspires me with ideas that I cannot realize, which 
 fills me with anxiety ; the melancholy wearies me with yawning ; 
 the grotesque and the dull excite my disgust ; the terrible distorts de- 
 licacy ; the satirical mocks humanity ; and the wild and romantic 
 gives me too much pleasure. — Milton’s Lycidas, parts of his Mask, 
 Shakspeare’s As you like it, Gay’s Dione, and such like, I can read 
 with comfortable delight. — Or, if I go into the fields and woods, in- 
 stead of reflecting, and tasting their beauties, I perhaps fall a weep- 
 ing, which I acknowledge is a weakness. — 0 how lively they used 
 to spread before me their blissful scenes, diversified with all the vari- 
 ety of form and colour, and tinged with the light of heaven, through 
 which my wild imagination used to roam in the days when I indulged 
 
 * A brother of Adam Walker. 
 
273 
 
 too charming- poetry. — But now stern necessity has deprived me of 
 the liberty of that pleasure. — I cannot bear to think of it. — But I 
 must be content. 
 
 “ Is Jim Fisher of a melancholy disposition ? I thought him so by 
 his letter to Mr. Pennington, which l had the pleasure to read. It 
 is like as if the points of his ideas were knocked off by some con- 
 straint. — 1 mean his powers are confined within too mean and narrow 
 hounds ; and when he gives loose to his genius he is like an eagle 
 tethered, or within a house of glass, so that when he rises transport- 
 ed with some noble object, the string plucks him hack, or he runs 
 against the transparent walls. — Pity never appears to me more ready 
 than upon occasions like this. — That a man endowed with noble 
 capabilities (for such I take Fisher to he) should be obliged to listen 
 to, and obey the barren and minute dictates of necessity. — The sta- 
 tion only of a mere sensitive being. — For servitude is a worse clog 
 than even poverty or adversity to a man of parts. — 0 no ! poverty, 
 comparatively speaking, is a spacious field for a noble minded man 
 to exert himself in ; adversity, however, is. But a servile situation 
 hurts a man’s spirit far more than either of these. And, if 1 may be- 
 lieve Homer, who preferred liberty to life ; 
 
 “ Jove fix’d it certain, that whatever day 
 Made man a slave, took half his worth away. ” 
 
 His detestation of servility was, perhaps, the cause of his being a 
 beggar; for one may perceive by his works, that he denies any 
 greatness except what proceeds from the nobility of the soul. 
 
 “ If you write to my brothers at Lancaster, it must be within a fort- 
 night ; otherwise they will he gone out. They have delayed coming 
 so long that I do not now expect them. 
 
 N N 
 
274 
 
 “For God’s sake do not confine yourself too much, I cannot think 
 such very close study as you represent yours to be, is the most pro- 
 fitable; but my notions upon that subject are, perhaps, none of the 
 best.” 
 
 Peter remained at Kendal about a year longer, prosecuting his stu- 
 dies with diligence, and occasionally painting portraits for a guinea 
 a head. He also employed himself in making compositions; parti- 
 cularly on a Family picture, which I regret was never finished. It 
 was on a three-quarters canvass, painted longitudinally. It repre- 
 sented Mr. and Mrs. Romney standing together in the centre of the 
 picture, he with his left arm resting lightly upon her left shoulder, 
 both looking complacently; they were very like, though Mr. Romney 
 was painted from memory aided by the unfinished crayon-portrait 
 which he himself had begun. He had a snuff coloured coat, and she 
 was represented in a fancy dress of white satin. Mrs. Romney’s 
 mother was seated on the right side of the picture with her grand- 
 daughter standing by her ; and the left was occupied by my portrait, 
 standing, and drawing a man’s head upon a rock with chalk ; the 
 figure was formal, and dressed in a suit of blue, which made me dis- 
 like it. I he background was wild scenery of rocks and waterfalls. 
 The sudden death of the beautiful and interesting little girl, then just 
 three years old, threw all into disorder and confusion; the picture was 
 abandoned forever ; the domestic establishment broken up, and its 
 members separated. The picture was kept by Mrs. Romney’s sister 
 and given to me more than forty years ago. As it was not a produ- 
 cible picture on account of its unfinished state, I cut it up, and only 
 kept the portrait of the venerable old lady, who was about eighty 
 years old when painted. 1 have it still, and appreciate it highly; lor, 
 besides the tie of consanguinity, it is linked to my feelings by many 
 
275 
 
 tender associations. Her physiognomy is very pleasing, and hand- 
 some for a woman of her years. It is admirably coloured, and, con- 
 sidering all circumstances, an extraordinary production, sufficient to 
 justify all the expectations that were then entertained of his future 
 eminence — why they were not realized the sequel will shew. 
 
 When his brother visited the north in 1765, he took Peter back 
 with him to London in order that he might have better opportunities 
 of improving himself ; but as he had not the means of maintenance 
 there, he was soon obliged to return to his father’s house. While he 
 remained at home, having brought with him a few prints after Bergham, 
 Vernet, &c., which he had picked up in London, he employed him- 
 self in copying them, and in making some compositions of his own. 
 With these, after having stopped a short time at Ulverston, he pro- 
 ceeded to Lancaster in the beginning of 1 767 ; and there, having- 
 formed a sufficient collection, he disposed of them by lottery, after 
 the example of his brother. He also painted some portraits during 
 his stay in that town. Being now furnished with a supply of money 
 in consequence of his lottery, he advanced boldly to Manchester, 
 where he may properly be said to have commenced his short career 
 as a portrait painter. 
 
 While he resided at Ulverston he wrote the three following letters 
 to his friend Cockin*, which, together with some others, have come 
 
 * W illiam Cockin was born at Burton in Kendal, was a teacher of writing and arithmetic, 
 and the author of the following works. 
 
 A rational and practical Treatise of Arithmetic in two parts, octavo. 
 
 Occasional attempts in verse, octavo. 
 
 Essay on the Doctrine of the Syphon. 
 
 The art of delivering Written Language. Dedicated to David Garrick, Esq., octavo. 
 
 Ode to the Genius of the Lakes, quarto. 
 
276 
 
 into my possession since the death of that gentleman. They are 
 written with much frankness and sincerity, and therefore exhibit a 
 correct portrait of his mind. And though they are the’productions of 
 an unpractised youth, they nevertheless display considerable talent, 
 and give strong indications of genius ; which, had it been duly fos- 
 tered and encouraged, would, no doubt, have led to fame and fortune. 
 It is evident that he had a correct taste, and a just perception of what 
 is excellent in art ; and this too when the arts in England had hardly 
 begun to raise themselves from their groveling state. 
 
 Ulverston, Augt. 26th, 1766. 
 
 “Dear Mr. Cockin, 
 
 “ If you remember how, when I saw you last, I begged you not 
 to fail in answering my letters, you will wonder that I should be so 
 long in sending the first. Indeed it is the first time I have had op- 
 portunity, and ability ; nor have I the last yet (or at least something 
 necessary) to write as I could wish; so you will take what comes as it 
 may happen to arise, order its ill-placed parts in your own mind, cor- 
 
 The fall of Scepticism and Infidelity predicted ; an epistle (in verse) to Doctor Beattie, 
 octavo. 
 
 The Freedom of Human Action explained, octavo. 
 
 A Paper in the Philosophical Transactions, read before the Royal Society. 
 
 The Rural Sabbath, a poem : posthumously published. 
 
 — Which shew the versatility of his talents. 
 
 He was deeply read in divinity, and his practical conduct was consistent with his learning-; 
 for a more meek and benevolent creature never graced humanity. His virtues were almost 
 without alloy. His elocution was mild and impressive, and he could talk on all subjects of 
 literature and taste with great lluency and judgment. He was the friend of Doctor Dawson, 
 the celebrated mathematician of Sedbergh, a man of similar manners and character : and of 
 the Rev. T. Wilson, late master of Clitlieroe school ; who was also distinguished for literary 
 talents and taste, as his playful verses on the Birch sufficiently testify. 
 
 It is curious to observe how men of genius, though thinly scattered in society, get linked 
 together, as it were by a certain mysterious sympathy and attraction. 
 
277 
 
 rect the wrong- and finish the deficient. But I may justly despair of 
 reaching your taste, when 1 must have not only much time, but strong 
 and clear perceptions, to write up to my own ; or if you will, to re- 
 duce, or digest, a dancing multitude of things to what I only admire, 
 and what I call — Virgin Simplicity. — Which 1 make my motto, as 
 I apprehend it to be not only a true criterion of all compositions ; but 
 the most faithful guide to every thing worthy the pursuit of the human 
 mind. For f have found by various experiments, that, nothing has 
 prevented my success in any study so much as an erroneous notion 
 that the mysteries of nature and of science must be extremely intri- 
 cate in themselves, and hard to comprehend even after discovered. 
 Hence 1 searched for them in curious and extraordinary places, wan- 
 dering from the pleasant simple path where they surely lie, till vexa- 
 tion and despair compelled me to give up, or return : when I was 
 often very greatly surprised to find what I sought where I least of 
 all expected it. But as twenty pages would be scarce sufficient to 
 contain the various illustrations 1 could give of my text, I will here 
 drop the subject, and give you a description of a number of critics, 
 by whom I have been pestered, and diverted, both here and at other 
 places. 
 
 “ The first sort that presents itself, are those, who, having per- 
 haps read some flimsy French authors on taste, heard of Hogarth’s 
 line of beauty, and seen a few of Reynold’s prints, condemn all pic- 
 tures that are not twisted, loose, and careless. The next are those 
 who having gathered their ideas from dancing masters, boarding- 
 schools, and some of Cranke’s, or Hudson’s pictures, admire only 
 such as are neat, formal, upright, and at some stiff kind of employ- 
 ment. 
 
278 
 
 “ A third, who have, perhaps, been in Italy, and seen a number of 
 very old, brown paintings, think none valuable that are not half ob- 
 scured by smoke and dust. These again are contrasted by a set, 
 whose criterion of judging is derived from Chinese figures with car- 
 mine cheeks, and from painted actresses; and who condemn alias 
 looking dirty, which are not uniformly fair, and bright as a tulip. A 
 fifth sort having seen some of Vandyck’s faded pictures, are quite 
 offended if a painting have any shadow in it ; whilst an advocate for 
 Rembrandt admires no picture but what is too dark to distinguish 
 what it represents. The first of these would even condemn a night 
 piece for being dark and obscure ; and the latter a day-light for being 
 clear and distinct. I have met with some critics so far carried away 
 with the idea of a rough, slight, and bold style in painting, as to cen- 
 sure a picture of Venus and Adonis for its delicacy, softness, and 
 high finishing ; and others, on the contrary, such admirers of the lat- 
 ter style, as to condemn a heroic piece for being rough, slight, and 
 bold. 
 
 “ The next sort I remember, are those, who gather their principles 
 from painted Hies, fruit, flowers, and other pieces of still-life, and 
 lifeless productions; who are always enamoured of little, minute 
 pieces, and parts of things, such as buttons, button-holes, lace, fin- 
 ger nails, fretted sleeves, and knots of ribands ; and who immedi- 
 ately dislike the picture in which they cannot discover these beauties : 
 whilst an opposite set, deeply learned in half finished pieces, designs, 
 drawings, <fcc., observe only the whole effect ; and if there be two 
 or three objects in an obscure part of the picture, and the rest tinged 
 with a broad light, they esteem it an admirable piece. The first of 
 these would prefer a picture of Cranke’s* with a fine finished finger 
 
 * Cranke was a respectable provincial painter, and from the pictures I have seen, not 
 much inferior to Hudson. 
 
279 
 
 nail to one by Reynolds without it : and the latter, any kind of mi- 
 serable sketch, to a piece finished according to its true character : 
 this, however, is the test, by which every subject should be tried and 
 judged ; but it is a thing they never dream of, nor would it be possi- 
 ble by any means to make them understand it. \ou will perceive 
 that the false and ridiculous judgments of those various sorts of critics 
 do not proceed so much from entire ignorance, (though that perhaps 
 would be more tolerable,) as from their knowing a little, and thence 
 vainly concluding that they comprehend everything. Absurd as this 
 vanity is, 1 think there are scarcely two persons out of two hun- 
 dred that are free from it : it affords an abundant source for the ridi- 
 culous, in which my friend C , if 1 am not much mistaken, 
 
 would greatly excel, if he could be induced to cultivate that talent. 
 —But I must take advantage of this remaining corner, to request that 
 you will not be so long in answering this letter as 1 have been in wri- 
 ting. I am curious to know what you are doing, and what you have 
 done since ! saw you; and if you would be kind enough to satisfy my 
 curiosity, you would much oblige 
 
 “ Y our affectionate friend 
 
 “ And humble servant, 
 
 “ Peter Romney.” 
 
 Diversion, September 6th, 1766. 
 
 “ Bear Mr. Cockin, 
 
 “ Having been out of D1 version, i did not receive your letter before 
 last night, the impressions of which, after reading it a second time this 
 morning, act upon my mind in such a manner, as to induce me to 
 give it an immediate answer, and to which the opportunity of Sunday, 
 
 ! hope, affords no objection, The frank, though 1 think much too 
 humble account, which you give of yourself, and the generous con- 
 
280 
 
 struction you put upon my long neglect of writing to you, compel me 
 to confess, that it was not so much occasioned by my being wholly 
 engaged, either with cultivations for the future, or with employment 
 of the present, as by an inability to write any thing which I thought 
 would give either profit or pleasure, or rather a higher opinion of my 
 abilities. This is the spur, I believe, that determined me to write at 
 last ; and which has, and will continue to stimulate to what the world 
 calls the most noble and heroic actions. And however meanly you 
 may think of it, I woidd not have you utterly to despise it ; for what- 
 ever ideal philosophers and enthusiasts may advance about doing 
 good and excellent things purely for the sake of doing them, I have 
 a notion that this would often prove but a feeble motive if not accom- 
 panied by the hopes of distinction. I do not affirm that your want 
 of exertion is occasioned by your having put too heavy a yoke upon 
 this human instigator; though you may, perhaps, infer that such is 
 my opinion, particularly when you have read the following assertion 
 from Spencer’s Fairy Queen. — The mind that is pregnant with glori- 
 ous intentions can never rest till it has brought them forth. 
 
 “Though you compliment me on the happiness of my notions on 
 simplicity, yet give me leave to observe, that you do not seem to feel 
 the beauty of the image from whence 1 drew the epithet, with that 
 rapture I could have wished ; which I account for by supposing that 
 you have not associated so many endearing ideas to the name of 
 Virgin as I have : in which if [ am carried to a degree of prejudice, 
 like that of those critics, whom T briefly mentioned to you in my last, 
 (who judge of all sorts of pictures, poems, &c., by one and the same 
 criterion, without any reference to character ;) do not look upon it 
 otherwise, than as a natural and temporary delusion, w hich, perhaps, 
 may be too soon removed by the severe instructions of experience. 
 
281 
 
 For when I Lear a simple virgin mentioned, I do not conceive the 
 idea of a plain, cold, insipid, unfeeling girl — no — there arises in my 
 mind an elegant, graceful, beauteous form, endowed with a soul as 
 pure as light; so warmed with truth, generosity, and affection, as 
 to breathe through every pore, producing a blush that shames the 
 lily tinged with the colours of the rose : and which being mingled 
 with smiles, glows unrivalled by art or nature. 
 
 “ Now laying aside partiality, and considering the chief end of 
 painting, &c., to be, to give pleasure, what model in nature can be 
 found so likely to be studied for producing that end ? But it is only 
 the judicious application of those studies, which can render them va- 
 luable; for instance, if the principles derived from studying such a 
 model, were indiscriminately applied to a heroic subject, how ridicu- 
 lous it would be ! They are not to be used like the prescription of a 
 quack, which professes to cure every disorder ; but must be adminis- 
 tered like a genuine medicine by a legitimate professor, who always 
 considers the season, situation, constitution, sex, and age of his pa- 
 tient ; which requires a deep and delicate discernment into the nature 
 and character of his subject ; the result of bright parts, wide know- 
 ledge, and long experience.* — How near I may come to the excellence 
 you call critical, and how highly obtain that science and invention, 
 which you say is necessary to form a good allegory, 1 cannot pretend 
 to foresee ; but to be able to invent a perfect picture demands such united 
 force of labour, genius, and opportunity, that 1 greatly fear they will 
 never all so far concur, as to give me the possession of such ability. 
 
 * Cockin was a metaphysical writer, and as there is little affinity between metaphysics 
 and painting, I do not wonder that Peter felt some difficulty in combining the abstract rea- 
 sonings of the philosopher with the visible creations of his own imagination. 
 
 O O 
 
282 
 
 It is very trifling to invent in a scattered and disordered manner, 
 without regard to time, place, unity, expression, and character ; but 
 it is something indeed very extraordinary, to produce a full, clear, 
 united, and interesting subject ; and to adorn it with the most empha- 
 tic and characteristic beauties in such a manner, as to render it at 
 once striking, charming, and instructive. I say nothing of the mere 
 mechanical parts of painting, as I conceive them to he an easy con- 
 sequence of the other, though both painters and critics make such a 
 clamour about them. And why do they ? Because therein lie their 
 chief excellencies ; the first in producing, and the latter in discover- 
 ing them. Yet I would not have you to understand that I despise or 
 neglect those mechanical parts of art — lry no means — only it vexes 
 me when I see them placed uppermost, instead of being regarded as 
 subservient to the other ; which is surely a most degrading inversion 
 of true science : it is just the same as preferring the hand-writing of 
 a letter to the sense it contains ; which indeed I have often seen done, 
 even when the sense has been clever, and the writing but tolerable. 
 What numbers of pictures there are wrought up to the highest perfec- 
 tion that the united force of drawing and colouring can carry them ; 
 which yet have no effect, considered either as a pleasing group of 
 objects, or an interesting subject pathetically expressed, or truly 
 characterized ! All their beauties consist in their parts being very 
 like in form and colour to what they were intended to represent — 
 which parts are, perhaps, a number of inelegant objects, scattered as 
 it were by accident, up and down, without connexion or meaning, 
 general or particular. — Painters seem not to know that painting is no 
 more than a pleasing vehicle, or means of conveying the beauties of 
 nature to the mind ; otherwise they would never certainly prefer the 
 vehicle or means x to the matter conveyed, and the end . — I fancy it 
 is much the same in poetry, which seems not to be regarded as the 
 
283 
 
 drapery of truth and philosophy which should never he sacrificed for 
 mere embellishment ; no more than a leg- or arm of a man in a pic- 
 ture should be maimed or cut off, to make room for some elegant 
 folds of drapery ; a thing I have more than once seen done. Poetry 
 as well as painting, however, if judiciously and finely managed, is, 
 no doubt, as capable of adorning and heightening truth and philoso- 
 phy, as dress the human figure ; the effects of which, in the present 
 state of society, all, who are not stupidly prejudiced, must allow to 
 he very powerful indeed, particularly when disposed with exquisite 
 taste. 
 
 “Thus have I expressed myself as clearly as I am able, in disclo- 
 sing the nature of some things, which, though not immediately con- 
 sequential to your letter, are what have often given me pain in 
 considering. And after speaking in such an absolute manner, (which 
 [ would alter if I had time,) will you not think it odd of me, to de- 
 sire you to correct what you may judge amiss, and to give me your 
 sentiments as they may arise on your perusal ? I would not have 
 you to sacrifice what you honestly think to any kind of complaisance. 
 The reason for this hint is nothing more than a desire which I have 
 to know what is really right and true as nearly as I possibly can ; 
 for I frequently find my confidence fail when my certainty is ren- 
 dered any way doubtful ; which has subjected me to strange suffer- 
 ings in my own mind, whereof you may probably have a lively sense 
 from your own feelings. 
 
 “It does not give me so much pleasure as you might at first ima- 
 gine — people’s hopes of what I may hereafter produce — because I 
 know that hopes of this description are always too sanguine ever to 
 be perfectly realized. I would, if I could, act in such a manner as 
 
284 
 
 never to raise expectations which I could not more than satisfy. This 
 often prevents me from even pretending- to what is my right, and from 
 pushing- myself as much as I might do, As nothing- would mortify 
 me more than to solicit a person to sit for his picture, and after that, 
 not be able to please him. — So that my business is, to do (nearly) as 
 well as I can, and if that answers — it may — if not — it is only the 
 very last necessity that can force me to use any other persuasions. 
 
 “I have had a great number of visitors, among- whom 1 have only 
 picked up four ; and whether I shall have any more or not, T cannot 
 tell ; but it is what I scarcely expect. — I find this place not so conve- 
 nient for prosecuting- the scheme of improvement I told you of when 
 1 saw you, as I supposed. I am, it is true, my own master ; clear 
 from that multiplicity of manners, &c., which is very apt to mislead 
 from the true model, (to wit,) nature judiciously chosen. — Yet this 
 convenience is far outweighed by the advantages, and opportunities of 
 improvement, which London affords beyond the country. The want 
 of company is a disagreeable circumstance, for I can find none but 
 what are extremely shallow in the polite arts, except Doctor Scales*, 
 whom I very seldom see. Mr. Kendal is very clever, but he is rather 
 smart than sensible. My only two companions are Mr. Williamson^ 
 and Dr. Fell|, both great in their respective ways, which unluckily 
 happen not to be of the kind I should choose. But to supply this in- 
 convenience, do not fail to write as often, and as much as opportu- 
 
 * The Rev. Mr. Scales, B. D., (commonly called Doctor Scales,) then minister of Ulverston, 
 and formerly a Fellow of St. John’s College, Cambridge ; an elegant minded man, and of 
 gentlemanly manners. 
 
 + Williamson the associate of his brother George when at Dalton. 
 
 + A very respectable medical practitioner, who through a long life had the chief business of 
 Ulverston and its neighbourhood. 
 
285 
 
 nity and your own ease will suffer you ; which favour will be very 
 thankfully acknowledged, and I hope some day duly recompensed 
 by 
 
 “ Dear sir, 
 
 “Your sincere friend and humble servant, 
 
 “ Peter Romney.” 
 
 “ If not so good, so much the more of it,” — would not, I think, be 
 ill applied to my letter ; the length of which I hope you will excuse, 
 and the next time, 1 will strive to put what I have to say in less room, 
 and likewise make it more legible if I can. 
 
 “ Brother Lawrence* being with me all day of Monday, made me 
 miss the carrier.” 
 
 Ulverston. 
 
 “ Dear Cockin, 
 
 “ Wherever my letter may end, it shall, in the manner of Pindar, 
 begin from Jove, whom (without being profane) I hope I may sup- 
 pose the great Author of the universe. Through all the parts of 
 which yet laid open to us, does he not appear to act upon principles 
 most admirably simple ? Therefore I conclude that it must be the 
 same kind of principles, which ought to direct any one in discovering 
 them, as well as in imitating them with success, or in judging truly 
 of the merit of those imitations. Hence the philosopher, the artist, 
 and the critic ought never to transgress the laws of simplicity, lest 
 they wander from the right, and miss their intended aim. For what- 
 ever discoveries we fancy we accomplish, whatever fond imitations of 
 nature we produce, or whatever vain observations on these imitations 
 
 * This excellent young man died in the West Indies. 
 
286 
 
 we make, if they be not all effected under the conduct of simplicity, 
 and squared thereby, they will, fifty to one, be false or frivolous. 
 There are two strong instances in proof of the first, I mean the noti- 
 ons that the sun rolled round the world to cause day and night, and 
 galloped some millions of degrees north and south, to produce sum- 
 mer and winter. Which, by the bye, is just like turning the fire 
 round the roasting goose, or moving the whole grate this way and 
 that, in order to roast both neck and tail, instead of letting the 
 spit run oblique to the fire, and thus Now if my 
 
 model had been known and referred to, these supposed discoveries 
 would have been found quite inconsistent therewith, and consequently 
 false, whatever appearances might plead in their favour. 
 
 “To hint a demonstration of the influence that simplicity should 
 have in works of art, and in criticism, I will remind you of one in- 
 stance among a thousand, illustrating it in both ; that is, the elegy 
 in a country church yard, by Gray ; in which, if the bard had known 
 simplicity to have been the very last thing whose bounds he should 
 have transgressed, he never would have forsook it in so important a 
 part as the conclusion. Nor would (my friend*) the critic have ob- 
 
 * He seems to allude to some criticism of Cockin’s, in which he had censured Gray for his 
 egotism and affectation. That such were Cockin’s sentiments will appear from the following- ob- 
 servations in his own hand writing 1 , which I found in Mason’s Memoirs of Gray, and which 
 probably were written when he visited Mr. Romney in 1795. — Having long before detected 
 this infirmity in Gray, he was thus able to supply the defective words, which Mason, who 
 should have known him better, was not. 
 
 “ Enough for me, if to some feeling breast 
 My lines a secret sympathy impart 
 And as their pleasing influenceyfoni’s confest, 
 
 A sigh of soft reflection heave the heart. 
 
287 
 
 served this transgression, had he not either known simplicity to be the 
 first principle of poetry, or at least felt it to be such. I need not tell 
 you that we often, if not always, feel beauties and faults before we 
 are aware of their causes. Thus much for the term simplicity, which 
 of itself I thought imperfect, as I fancied it would lead the mind only 
 to the naked skeleton, or undecorated design ; as, for example, to that 
 plain, uniform, and single sickly coloured edifice you mentioned in 
 your letter ; and thus hinder it from being so universal as f at first 
 intended it ; for I meant it to be exactly like nature herself, who al- 
 ways appears adorned, and that too in the most endearing manner 
 imaginable : I therefore, sought for an epithet to tag to it, in order 
 to embellish and beautify it as much as possible, without its being 
 inconsistent with, or counteracting its due elfect ; and after rumma- 
 ging all nature through, Virgin appeared the most effectual term I 
 could meet with, not only as it implies the most perfect purity and 
 
 Of the above stanza, which forms the last of a copy of verses to Mr. Bentley, by Gray, (see page 
 228 of Mason’s Life,) his ingenious editor observes in a note, as follows. — “ A corner of the 
 only manuscript copy, which Mr. Gray left of this fragment, is unfortunately torn; and though 
 I have endeavoured to supply the chasm, I am not quite satisfied w T ith the words which I have 
 inserted in the third line. I print my additions in italics, and shall be much pleased if my 
 reader finds a better supplement to this imperfect stanza.” That the supplemental words 
 here alluded to are neither tuneable enough for the author, forcible enough for the conclusion 
 of the piece, (as, after all, there is reason to think the stanza was,) nor in fact, what he really 
 wrote, I fancy every judge of Gray’s poetry will allow — Below another conclusion is offered; 
 but whether it may be better guessed, it is not for the guesser to determine. He will only first 
 remark, that he is strongly persuaded the final word of all was the poet’s own name ; and se- 
 condly, remind the reader, that this feeling poet seemed to have a singular pleasure in saying 
 something respecting himself in his verses, as may be seen, at least, in three other of his poems. 
 
 Enough for me if to some feeling breast 
 My lines a secret sympathy convey ; 
 
 And as their pleasing influence is imprest, 
 
 A sigh of soft reflection heave for Gray." 
 
288 
 
 beauty, but also every other truly amiable quality that uncorrupted 
 humanity is susceptible of. Hence virgin simplicity. In what I 
 have here said on the old subject, I do not strive in the way of con- 
 troversy, (that not being’ my business,) to confute, or in the least in- 
 validate what you or others may have said in opposition to my noti- 
 ons ; nor to illustrate what you or they may have advanced in my 
 favour : I have only attempted to give you as plain and comprehen- 
 sive an idea of what I mean in general, as I can, without entering 
 into particulars ; as I conceive them to arise in consequence, like the 
 various branches of a vegetable from its seed, whose flourishing de- 
 pends in various degrees on the genius of the soil in which it is sown. 
 For however genuine the seed may be, if the soil be barren, the crop 
 will surely be nothing. — Whither do I wander ?■ — I was not aware 
 of being put to the explaining of myself to any one upon a subject 
 which I regarded solely as useful and just in my own applications, 
 without once thinking how to vindicate myself to another. Do you 
 believe it possible to be absolutely convinced of the truth of a matter, 
 without being able to defend, or even to explain its nature ? This is 
 what I am — I will tell youliow. — My mind, with perfect honesty, simply 
 for the sake of discovering how things really are, often, as it were, 
 without my being sensible of it, rummages through the utmost heights, 
 depths, and limits of things, turning them impartially on every side, 
 and observing all their various aspects, and internal qualities, toge- 
 ther with all their properties general and particular, their difference 
 likewise and relations ; after which, having made proper deductions, 
 allowances, &c., and summed up the several real values of each side 
 together, the balance, or real worth of what 1 was in search of, re- 
 mains in my memory, whilst perhaps, every step of the operation, or 
 the means by which 1 accomplished my conclusion, and the reason I 
 had for it, are entirely vanished beyond the power, not only of being 
 
289 
 
 repeated, but of recollection. For, as I told you, my mind sets to 
 work of its own accord ; and it is a common observation, that we are 
 able to do thing’s voluntarily, which necessity cannot compel us to do; 
 the reason of which I shall not here strive to explain : but T think 
 sufficient has been said to convince you, that one may be certain, (as 
 far as human certainty can go,) of things, without being able to 
 justify, or explain them ; which is very often my case, and particu- 
 larly in this of virgin simplicity, for the reasons I have already hinted. 
 F or I do remember that it was the clear conclusion of a great and 
 extensive operation of the whole united powers of my mind; though 
 the process is almost entirely sunk in oblivion ; and what 1 have said, 
 both now and before, about it, are only bits of scattered parts, which 
 by accident I recollect, or very imperfectly work out from the confu- 
 sed mass that remains. 
 
 “ I owe you a large acknowledgment for the deep and elegant, 
 though you say, unpremeditated essay on simplicity ; only I could 
 have wished it less philosophical, or rather, that my own mind 
 had been more refined and susceptible of the beauty of abstract and 
 metaphysical reasoning ; for sentiments, however just in themselves, 
 and in their expression, if they be not illustrated by a number of stri- 
 king- figures and allusions, &c., so that they rise like pictures to my 
 imagination, I never can, without a very close and often repeated 
 perusal, perfectly understand. 
 
 “ When imagination is predominant, without the greatest care my 
 understanding is led blind, and 1 am carried into strange extrava- 
 gancies, and seeming contradictions, which I strive in vain to re- 
 concile by any kind of reasoning; till my judgment, feeling the 
 reality o! the case, disperses the errors which imagination had raised, 
 
 p P 
 
290 
 
 and brings me back to the place from whence I first beg an to wander. 
 Thus are all my cloudy castles dissolved to air by my understanding, 
 which is so strong as never to be very long deceived by the illusions 
 of fancy ; whilst on the other hand, the latter is too active ever to 
 suffer the former to carry its dominion to the last extremity : so that 
 my imagination and my judgment reciprocally mislead and correct 
 each other; which is the simple cause that will, 1 believe, unravel all 
 the inconsistencies of character in my letters, &c., and tell why I am 
 at intervals, both a libertine, a sage, and an honest man. — Always to 
 be the last is the greatest desire of, 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ Yours, &c. 
 
 “ Peter Romney.” 
 
 “ P. S. — Pardon the strangeness of this letter, for my heart is in 
 such a tumult, and so distracted about an affair I have lately been 
 engaged in, that 1 scarce know what I either do or say.” 
 
 Peter’s warm imagination, refined feelings, and romantic turn of 
 mind rendered him peculiarly liable to the tender impressions of love. 
 While he lodged at Williamson’s, an artful female, who visited there, 
 by her affected simplicity of manners, and specious modesty, had the 
 address to insinuate herself into his heart ; and had nearly, like Circe of 
 old, entangled him in her snares. As soon as her mask was taken 
 off, and he became undeceived, he immediately quitted Ulverston ; 
 but she followed him to Lancaster and Manchester, and so annoyed 
 him, that he was obliged to have recourse to a magistrate to have her 
 removed. SSie afterwards assumed his name, pretended to be his 
 wife, and under that character incurred much debt. Williamson 
 was severely censured for giving countenance to the intercourse. It 
 
291 
 
 is evident that the two last letters were written while his mind was 
 under this delusion. The following- two, addressed to the same friend 
 a few months after Peter’s arrival at Manchester, shew that the en- 
 chantment was broken, but not without leaving- some painful reflec- 
 tions behind. The second will also give the reader a tolerable idea 
 of the many mortifications and disappointments which usually attend 
 a portrait painter in a provincial town ; especially before his profes- 
 sional character is established. 
 
 Manchester, August 22nd, 1767. 
 
 “ Dear Mr. Cockin, 
 
 “ Having- long owed you a letter, I now make free to pay it, though 
 you, perhaps, may not count me any thanks for it; as I have reason 
 to apprehend that my character may he under disgrace from the con- 
 nexions 1 have had with that girl, with whom we drank tea the last 
 time I saw you. Yet 1 flatter myself you are too well acquainted 
 witli the falsehood, or, at least, exaggeration of common reports, to 
 give credit to them should they go against me ; therefore I hope I 
 may continue to enjoy your former regard, and to address you with 
 my usual freedom, till you find me as worthless and base (as some I 
 know would gladly make me) from incontestible proofs ; for I con- 
 ceive you to he too just and generous, to decide so grand a point as 
 that of a person’s character, from any thing less convincing. 
 
 “ Were it possible for me, in the compass of a letter, to relate the 
 whole of what has passed between that girl and me, you might then 
 see clearly how to balance the account; but, as that cannot be, I 
 hope, notwithstanding any odium that may have been thrown upon 
 me in consequence of my intimacy with her, you will take me on my 
 word, that I am in general innocent, till I have an opportunity of 
 
292 
 
 convincing- you more fully. Not that I pretend to justify myself in 
 all respects ; for, though the first and principal motive for my con- 
 cerning- myself with her was to do her real service ; (as I fancied her 
 simplicity rendered her subject to he much deceived, and imposed 
 upon ;) — yet, I must confess, others of a baser kind would now and 
 then interpose, for which I shall ask no quarter besides what your 
 judgment freely allows. Nor shall 1 conceal any tiling from you 
 when I see you, as I am sensible it is more pleasant to disclose the 
 truth, however reprehensible that truth might be, than to bear its 
 pangs about under the insupportable veil of reserve and dissimulation. 
 What is now become of the wretched girl I really cannot tell ; but I 
 understand she has made her escape from the constable at War- 
 rington, who should have taken her to ner own parish under a 
 vagrant pass, for roaming about the country without money and 
 clothes, and borrowing things on false pretences, and in people’s 
 names who had no connexion with her. 
 
 “ It was this girl, who from time to time till this present hour, 
 prevented me from writing to you and answering your last letter, 
 which S have now not only lost, but forgot its contents. 
 
 “ 1 return you thanks for your subscription*, and should have been 
 glad if you had got something : though there was nothing which I could 
 wish in the possession of a person of taste ; yet it would have afforded 
 me great pleasure if you had gained something in return for your 
 kindness. But Fortune, who is known to be not over kind in dispen- 
 sing her favours, and who often seems to take a pleasure in thwart- 
 ing our dearest anxieties, only behaved in her usual manner. 
 
 * Mr. Coekin was a subscriber to his lottery at Lancaster. 
 
293 
 
 “] fancy my brother George is with you before this; as I under- 
 stood from the last letter f\.had from London, that he meant to be at 
 Lancaster about, or before this time. 
 
 “ I should be very glad to have a line from you the first opportu- 
 nity, with a sketch of current reports about me and the unhappy girl, 
 as I suppose the affair is too singular to be confined in private ; yet 
 it may admit of a query whether you know much about it though it 
 be public, if you continue to indulge your love of solitude and scenery 
 as much as you used to do. The pleasures resulting from such a life 
 are, perhaps, more tranquil and certain than those enjoyed in more 
 tumultuous scenes ; yet I must say with Brutus, that I would not 
 forego the noble feelings of the heart, excited in active life, with all 
 the attendant perturbations, for whatever 1 have yet enjoyed of still 
 and solitude. 
 
 “ I have been here about two months, and so far employed ; and I 
 am not without hopes of further encouragement. My love to my 
 brother if he be come, and my compliments to Mr. Collinson and 
 Mr. Ashburner. With sincerest wishes for your health and hap- 
 piness, 
 
 “ ! am, dear sir, 
 
 “ Your very humble servant, 
 
 “Peter Romney.’’ 
 
 Manchester, October 7th, 1767. 
 
 “ Dear Mr. Cockin, 
 
 “ I wrote to you (I have forgot exactly how long since,) but, howe- 
 ver it is so long that if something particular had not happened, 
 I think you might have answered me before this. — To what must 1 
 
294 
 
 attribute your silence ? To want of opportunity ? No. — Perhaps you 
 never got my letter : that is scarcely probable. — To want of health ? 
 I hope not. — To a dislike you have to writing- to me ? I will not be- 
 lieve it. — And surely you cannot be so formal as to suffer eight or 
 nine months to slide away before you seize your pen, merely because 
 1 did. Heaven forbid you should have the same cause for neglect- 
 ing to answer my letter so long, that 1 had, yours. 
 
 “ Thus far I wrote before I received your friendly and gene- 
 rous letter, which raised emotions in my breast which I have not 
 often been acquainted with. Were it not that 1 am well assured of 
 the sincerity of your heart, I should impute the profusion of encomi- 
 ums you lavish upon me, to other causes than the warmth of your 
 friendship and generosity ; since heaven knows I merit none such. 
 And yet, I confess, it gave me inexpressible pleasure to think that the 
 person whose esteem I value above all others, could find any reason 
 to induce him to honour me with them. Nor would they suffer the 
 consciousness of not deserving them, to throw any damp upon their 
 influence ; but inspired me with the adventurous hopes of one day 
 deserving (by God’s assistance) what I now know myself so far un- 
 worthy of, and thereby securing my friend from being suspected of 
 mistaken zeal or flattery, and myself from the sharp reproofs of 
 conscience. 
 
 “ I am sorry my brother* has so poor a prospect of business ; mine, 
 1 can assure you, is nothing to boast of. It is true I have been hi- 
 therto employed, but I have very faint expectations for the future ; 
 though very few people in this town have had their portraits painted, 
 and though they are in general very rich ; but this latter circumstance, 
 
 * t his was just after he had come to Lancaster, before the influx of business had begun to 
 pour upon him. 
 
295 
 
 is counterbalanced by their fondness for money. In the pieces I 
 have finished I have done my very best, and they who have seen them, 
 think them all very like. 
 
 “ What should l do ? S had recourse to other methods, and am 
 justly punished for my attempts; though they were always made 
 upon people who had more money than they had wisdom to make 
 good use of it, which I thought would, in some measure, palliate the 
 meanness of the stratagems I practised upon them, to draw them into 
 my sitting-chair. — The first I fixed upon for this purpose, was a lady 
 of wit, beauty, and distinction — all which I did not fail to let her know, 
 though it was unnecessary, as she knew them already ; but as the 
 being told of certain things that one knows, is said to be still agree- 
 able, so it proved in her case. — Hut I dwelt chiefly upon her beauty, 
 (which in truth is very extraordinary for her age,) in hopes of inspi- 
 ring her with a desire of transmitting it to posterity; which, at length, 
 she declared was her intention when she went to London ; adding, 
 that when it was done, it should be by the first painter in the king- 
 dom. — The next was, also, a lady, whose only objection to sitting was, 
 that she thought she should not make a good picture. — Though she 
 was very graceful and genteel in her person ; yet her face was no 
 way remarkable, except for the sensibility of her looks. I bis 1 made 
 a handle of, and assured her, that it was not so much the complexion 
 or form of the face, as the expression of the countenance ami the 
 gracefulness of the attitude, that made a fine picture ; which excellen- 
 cies, I told her, she was possessed of in a most remarkable degree. — 
 Very likely, says she, (reddening while she spoke,) but the form and 
 complexion, which you set so light by, are the principal circumstan- 
 ces, I fancy, that contribute to the likeness; and I assure you 1 should 
 despise my picture, however graceful the attitude, and fine the ex- 
 
296 
 
 pression, if it was not extremely like. This answer, and the manner 
 in which it was delivered, put me past the power of attempting to 
 convince her that I did not mean to slight her form and complexion, 
 which I too plainly saw she imagined — Thus was I a second time 
 defeated. — Yet I had the hardihood to try again ; which was upon a 
 lady likewise, of great endowments, whose only objection, she said, 
 was the colour of her hair. And while she hesitated, I, in hopes of 
 prevailing upon her, told her that the greatest painters had always 
 painted their Madonnas with red hair, which was a proof that they 
 regarded it as the most beautiful.— Well, says she, (with an affected 
 laugh,) and so you call my hair red, do you ? I am much obliged to 
 you for the title you give it ; but it is neither red, nor shall you ever 
 make it so. — Thus you see how I frustrated the object of my designs 
 by the very means I made use of in order to obtain it. — If a person 
 would succeed by flattery, Arc., he must not he over delicate ; hut 
 speak with all the assurance of conscious sincerity, and praise alike, 
 both beauties and faults, but chiefly the faults, which forms a charm 
 irresistible. But that is above my reach. — I made several other trials, 
 notwithstanding my disappointments, upon both men and women ; 
 but met with a general answer, — that they had no money to spare 
 upon such things. Except, indeed, three or four, who were prevailed 
 upon, and who have disappointed me five times within the last fort- 
 night. The first is a very good-natured, but at the same time, a verv 
 thoughtless gay young fellow. I met him one evening, and he told 
 me he would wait on me the next morning at nine. The hour came, 
 but he never appeared. I sent a boy to remind him of his engage- 
 ment, who was told that he had taken a sail down the Duke’s canal 
 with some gentlemen and ladies. A second time he fixed upon a 
 morning, and came ; but told me (indicating at the same time by his 
 gestures some haste) that he could only stay a quarter of an hour. 
 
297 
 
 I told him that would not do. Well, says he, the winter mornings 
 are so short that I can spare no time, but I will wait on you on Sun- 
 day morning at seven o’clock. Eight, nine, &c. came, but he never 
 made his appearance, neither did he send any message, nor have I 
 seen him since. Another young fellow, stupid enough, came at eight 
 one morning to bid me prepare for him against nine. I did so ac- 
 cordingly ; hut he, in the usual manner, never came till four in the 
 afternoon; and all his apology was, that he had a letter to write which 
 kept him till eleven, when he thought it was too late. The third was 
 a widower, and a kind of deist, both in opinion and practice ; he met 
 me yesterday, and told me that a person of great judgment who had 
 seen his picture, said that it was too young and handsome, and besides, 
 had too long a nose, and too straight a face ; he, therefore, was de- 
 termined to sit another time, and would call upon me at nine this 
 morning. He, however, not appearing at the time, 1 went half an 
 hour after to look for him, and found him in his morning gown and 
 velvet cap, looking over some old parchments, which he said he had 
 found the preceding night as he was rummaging among his papers ; 
 and that on looking into one of them, he found its contents of some 
 importance, which determined him to examine them thoroughly the 
 first Thing he did ; and that he would wait on me the next Sunday 
 morning. My patience was so nearly overcome, that, to conceal the 
 struggle in my mind, I immediately withdrew, leaving him and his 
 ridiculous parchments, which it grieved me sore to see preferred to 
 myself. You will not wonder then, when I tell you, that I am de- 
 termined for the future, to leave every person to his own inclinations, 
 and no longer sacrifice myself to meanness ; to he only slighted by 
 others, and despised by myself. 
 
 Q Q 
 
298 
 
 “ There is one Pickering”, who lives altogether in this town, a face- 
 painter, and a second Cranke ; but who neither draws nor colours so 
 well. He is, in short, a mere old woman in painting, and is quite 
 adapted to the Manchester people, who are old women in every thing, 
 except trade and manufactures. This you will think is dictated by 
 a spirit of disappointment ; but I believe it will be found true, taking 
 the people in general. 
 
 “ I do not know whether you will be able to read my letter, how- 
 ever, not to lengthen it more, I conclude with my sincere wishes for 
 your health and happiness. 
 
 “ 1 am vour affectionate humble servant, 
 
 “ Peter Romney.” 
 
 “ P. S. — My love to my brother, and shall be glad to hear from him, 
 and yourself, the first opportunity ; for nothing would he more agree- 
 able, as f keep but little, or no company ; indeed I cannot meet with 
 any to my mind.” 
 
 In a subsequent letter, without date, but evidently written in the 
 spring of 1768, he again says, — “ Pickering has attempted to ruin my 
 reputation by a stratagem, which, though trite, is as subtile as art could 
 devise, being the most powerful against me, while at the same time it 
 has the least appearance of spite : it is no other than this — “ that my 
 paintings will not stand, hut presently lose their lustre, and grow 
 flat as a pancake By this base assertion, you will perceive that 
 he sets void all merit; for it avails nothing whatever excellencies my 
 pictures may possess, if they vanish almost immediately like a cloud 
 of smoke. But no more of* so unworthy an object, let him brood 
 and bring forth what will only hurt himself, but honour me. 
 
299 
 
 He continues ; “ I mean to embrace tbe first cessation from employ- 
 ment here, and travel northward ; but as I have new pictures coming- 
 in every week, I do not know when that may happen. 
 
 “ What is the reason that I cannot think of you without conceiving- 
 that your mind is at work with some composition or other. However 
 you may pretend to be indolent, I cannot by any means persuade 
 myself that you can be happy without frequently complying- with the 
 sug-g-estions of your g-enius. There is a moral reason for it. It would 
 hurt your conscience to resist the impulse of those talents, which na- 
 ture has bestowed upon you for the pleasure and profit of mankind. 
 Because it would be ungrateful. The meek opinion you entertain 
 of yourself is a faint plea, and will not justify your not attempting; 
 for not even those who have had the greatest success, could have known 
 before they tried, what they could do. — Therefore banish, as Sh e li- 
 sten e says, the self-dehasing principle. Humility has depressed ma- 
 ny a genius into a hermit, but never yet raised one into a poet of 
 eminence. He further says, he fears that humility is to genius as an 
 extinguisher to a candle. — From this you will perceive that I either 
 believe you are at work with something, or would fain have you to 
 be so. You have attempted and succeeded — what greater encou- 
 ragement would you have to attempt again ? However indifferent 
 you may be to the things of this world, fame must he sweet to you ; 
 and though you have acquired it as far as you are known, (the great- 
 est no further,) you must not expect from what you have done, to 
 preserve it without fresh supplies ; since, as Shakspeare says, perseve- 
 rance only keeps honour bright ; to have done, is, to be hung out of 
 use, like rusty mail in monumental mockery. I speak to you in a 
 style of authority, hut pardon me; as I am afraid that, from some 
 humble motive or other, you will not do what I could wish, and what 
 I know you are capable of. 
 
300 
 
 “ You are not aware, perhaps, what interest I have in my attempt- 
 ing- to incite you ; no less than the honor of having- roused a sleep- 
 ing genius into action. — But I must conclude with my sincerest 
 
 wishes for vour health and welfare. 
 
 • ' 
 
 “ I am, dear sir, 
 
 “Your friend and humble servant, 
 
 “Peter Romney.” 
 
 “ Excuse haste and let me hear from you very soon, and what you 
 have new and strange since L left Lancaster. I heard from mv brc- 
 
 c? J 
 
 ther in London lately — he is very well. There is an account of his 
 picture* in the Public Ledger for yesterday.” 
 
 That what he has said of Pickering- did not arise from anv mean 
 and illiberal competition on his part, is manifest from the candid man- 
 ner in which he speaks of Wright, who had forestalled him at Liver- 
 pool ; for in another letter, dated Liverpool, Nov. 5th, 1769, he says: 
 “ I have about a dozen pictures in hand here, hut what further en- 
 couragement I shall meet with 1 cannot judge. Mr. Wright, a fa- 
 mous painter from Derby, is here, who swallows up all the business. 
 Me is indeed a true copier of nature : he is of a studious disposition, 
 has a line taste, and is, in short, qualified for a portrait-painter of 
 the first class ; hut he seems to want a certain force of feeling, and 
 strength of conception necessary in history-painting.” 
 
 Me continued at Liverpool only a short time, and then returned to 
 Manchester, where his long residence and distinguished talents had 
 acquired him the esteem and friendship of all the most eminent lite- 
 rary characters in the place. The Rev. Doctor Assheton, Fellow of 
 
 * The picture of Mr. Leigh and family — see page 53. 
 
301 
 
 the Collegiate Church, and the learned Doctor Perceval were among- 
 his more select friends. 
 
 With a mind so organized as Peter’s was, it is no wonder that he 
 should again become entangled in the snares of love, a passion which 
 has oftener been the bane of great and noble minds, than the intem- 
 perate aspirations of ambition. It would appear from the following 
 elegiac stanzas, which I found among his papers, and which I beg 
 leave to insert here, not from any peculiar merit that they possess, 
 hut simply, to illustrate the turn and character of his mind — that he 
 had cherished an attachment for a Miss Shuttleworth during the more 
 early part of his residence at Manchester, which, how ever, does not 
 seem to have met with a corresponding return on the part of the 
 lady. 
 
 “ Beneath the deep and gloomy shades 
 Of Strangeway’s woody park, 
 
 Whilst from the eye the twilight fades 
 And all around grew dark ; 
 
 Removal overcharged with love. 
 
 And burthen’d with despair. 
 
 Pacing regardless thro’ the grove 
 With loose dishevel’d hair, 
 
 Thus to the woods and winds declares 
 T he sorrows of his heart, 
 l o soothe the anguish of his cares 
 And mitigate their smart. 
 
302 
 
 “ Ye woods and winds and darken’d skies, 
 O listen to my woes, 
 
 And not like Shuttleworth, despise 
 The passion I disclose. 
 
 Her matchless charms I have ador’d 
 A long and lingering year, 
 
 Told her my love, her love implor’d. 
 
 But all in vain, I fear. 
 
 For deaf as rocks or roaring seas. 
 
 And cruel as the grave. 
 
 She treats me with indifferent ease 
 And smiles to see me rave. 
 
 And shall I bear her scornful smiles. 
 
 Nor from her presence fly ? 
 
 No. — In the far Hesperian isles 
 I’ll seek felicity. 
 
 Farewell then, too enchanting fair. 
 
 My dearest love, adieu. 
 
 To worlds unknown I now repair 
 Far from all bliss and you. — 
 
 Yet what avails if I should rove. 
 
 My labour would be vain ; 
 
 For, absent from the maid I love, 
 
 I still with her remain. 
 
303 
 
 With her I could delighted roam 
 O’er regions far and wide — 
 
 Each place would he to me a home 
 If she was by my side. 
 
 K* 
 
 With her no country could offend, 
 
 No season seem severe, 
 
 For with her wheresoe’er I wend 
 Her presence would me cheer. 
 
 Ah ! what avails all pomp and pride, 
 
 And all that earth can give, 
 
 If cruel fate should us divide 
 And she not with me live. 
 
 This then would he my destiny. 
 
 If living from my dear, 
 
 The peopled world would he to me 
 A desert lone and drear. 
 
 Cease then, m3 7 love, thy cruel scorn, 
 
 Nor wound my tender heart, 
 
 Let me not he like one forlorn, 
 
 The butt of Cupid’s dart.” 
 
 After his return from Liverpool he fell into the society of a young 
 lady of the name of Brierley, whose attractions were so powerful that 
 they soon eradicated from his heart all remains, if any, of his former 
 love ; and he wooed her with such zeal and assiduity, that a mutual 
 attachment was the result of their intercourse. In the fervour of 
 
304 
 
 passion, when every thing- seems possible to an enthusiastic lover, ami 
 exaggeration and vanity are the necessary ingredients in a heated 
 imagination, he wrote the following complimentary verses. 
 
 To Miss Brierley. 
 
 “ A certain painter on a day. 
 
 As antiquated stories say. 
 
 Would paint a Venus quite complete. 
 
 In every part most exquisite. 
 
 But he, I fancy, could not find, 
 
 Amongst the train of woman kind, 
 
 One blest with ev’ry charm divine 
 
 With which he meant his piece should shine. 
 
 Therefore, his purpose to achieve, 
 
 He chose and pick’d out virgins five 
 For difPrent beauties most renown’d, 
 
 That could in all the place be found. 
 
 One blest with an enchanting face, 
 
 Another with a matchless grace, 
 
 This had a shape that all might prize, 
 
 The fourth, fair skin, the fifth, bright eyes. 
 
 The virgins to the painter sit, 
 
 From each he drew as he saw fit ; 
 
 And from their beauties all combin’d. 
 
 At length a perfect piece design’d. 
 
305 
 
 But had he flourish’d at this day, 
 
 And seen my matchless Brierley, 
 
 As fine a piece he might have drawn, 
 
 And as complete, from her alone ; 
 
 For in her join each charm and grace 
 Dispers’d among the female race ; 
 
 A perfect model she’d have been. 
 
 Worthy to sit for Beauty’s Queen. 
 
 The day will come, I hope, when I 
 Shall prove this is no flattery; 
 lint by the piece 1 shall display, 
 
 Drawn from my dearest Brierley. 
 
 Give demonstration, clear as light, 
 
 That in her every charm unite 
 Which heav’n did ever yet bestow 
 Upon one being here below.” 
 
 His feelings were now worked up to the highest pitch of sentimental 
 enjoyment, and permanent felicity seemed to await him as the ne- 
 cessary result of their meditated union. But alas! the partition 
 which separates joy from sorrow is often so thin and fragile, that it is 
 easily broken down by contingencies beyond the controul of man. The 
 lady in all the bloom of youth, soon sickened, and died of a rapid 
 consumption, that fallacious but fatal disease so apt to prey upon 
 youth and beauty. By this distressing event all his flattering hopes 
 were converted into the anguish of despair. His feelings were so 
 severely wounded that he could no longer endure to continue at a 
 
 R u 
 
366 
 
 place where every thing’ that met his eye, was only a renewal of un- 
 availing- regret ; yet, notwithstanding’, he could not separate himself 
 from the portrait of his love, but took it with him, and continued to 
 preserve it till his death ; and though it is not so beautiful as Venus, 
 it certainly is the representation of a fine looking woman, and is de- 
 licately and sweetly painted. — He, therefore, quitted Manchester in 
 .June 1770, in a state of mind bordering on distraction, and wandered 
 over the mountains which separate Lancashire from Yorkshire, re- 
 gardless of external objects, and indifferent as to the way he should 
 take, being conscious, as he said in a subsequent letter, that he 
 could not be more miserable whithersoever he might go. He might 
 have said, in the language of a congenial spirit, 
 
 Ogni mia gioja 
 
 Per lo suo dipartire in pianto e volta 
 Ogni dolcezza di mia vita e tolta. 
 
 Petrarca, Canzone 40. 
 
 And it might have been said of him, in the words of another ten- 
 der poet, 
 
 Fuggi tutta la notte, e tutto il giorno, 
 
 Erro senza consiglio, e senza guida. 
 
 Non udendo, o vedendo altro d’ intorno 
 Che le lagrime sue, die le sue strida. 
 
 Tasso. 
 
 At length, after two months, when his grief began to subside, and 
 his mind to recover its tone, he met with an acquaintance who kindly 
 recommended, and introduced him to several sitters in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Bradford. He says in the same letter “I have finished 
 fifteen pictures, and so much to the satisfaction of all parties, that 1 
 
307 
 
 have already three times as many to do in consequence. They are 
 all in crayons, which is the manner I design wholly to pursue, as it 
 is not only more expeditious, and more pleasing in effect than oil 
 colours; but different from my brother’s, and greatly in fashion.” — 
 Here seeking to extinguish his former flame by the influence of a 
 new one, he began to pay attention to the sister-in-law of his friend 
 and patron, which not being quite agreeable to the lady’s friends, he 
 immediately withdrew from this new scene of disappointment and 
 mortification, and again became a disconsolate wanderer. 
 
 the slight bias of untoward chance 
 
 Makes his best virtues from the even line, 
 
 With fatal declination, swerve aside. 
 
 Southey. 
 
 The repeated violence thus done to his feelings so unhinged his 
 mind, and brought on such depression and melancholy, that he neg- 
 lected his profession for a time, and became involved in debt and 
 difficulties : these, like offensive weeds growing upon a rich soil, so 
 obstructed the tender growth of genius, that it became blighted and 
 unproductive. Those precious hours, which should have been de- 
 voted to the study of the highest branch of painting, were barely 
 sufficient to procure him subsistence ; so that when any accidental 
 circumstance occurred to interrupt or prevent employment, want was 
 the inevitable consequence : thus his life was a continued struggle 
 with difficulties, aggravated by the simplichy of his heart and his high 
 feelings. How he fought his way through them I know not ; for 
 from the time when he quitted Yorkshire till we find him established 
 at Ipswich, there is no letter or document from which any information 
 can be obtained. What occurred at the latter place will appear from 
 the following letter addressed to his brother George at Rome. 
 
308 
 
 Cambridge, June 10th, 1774 
 
 “ Dear brother, 
 
 “ I have at length taken up pen to write to you, but before I pro- 
 ceed, I must entreat you not to sutler your mind to be hurt by the 
 reasons of my silence, which I hope are now in a fair way of being 
 terminated. 
 
 “ All my endeavours, together with the encouragement I met with 
 at Ipswich, were not sufficient to secure me from being arrested and 
 cast into prison by Messrs. All wood and Murray*. It is unnecessa- 
 ry to dwell on particulars. Mr. Greene thinks their conduct impru- 
 dent and weak. To distress me at a time, and in a place, where I 
 had not without some pains and expense, established a very extensive 
 reputation, not only as a painter, but as a man, and had above twelve 
 months’ business bespoke, which 1 had no more to do than to finish 
 with all expedition. When 1 might have had the first recommenda- 
 tions to whatever place I pleased. But this was not to be, especial- 
 ly in the maimer 1 had planned it. My arrest was so public that it 
 was known by every body directly — and greatly astonished some, 
 but grieved and afflicted, i believe, all the ladies and gentlemen, who 
 had employed me. They would have got me bail, but as that would 
 have increased expenses, without gaining me any real advantage, I 
 refused the offer, and went to limbo. When, at length, J was relea- 
 sed by the generous contributions of the ladies and gentlemen in and 
 about Ipswich, who had with much to do, persuaded my plaintiffs to 
 come to some compromise. 
 
 “ My principal patron was a Air. Lambert, professor of Greek at 
 Cambridge, the lover of Miss Lambert that died, for whom 1 drew 
 
 * Picture frame makers. 
 
309 
 
 her picture. He came to sec me, and finding I was the painter of 
 his favourite, that became an additional motive for him to serve me 
 — which he did, and continues so to do to his utmost. I came with 
 him to Cambridge about a month ago, and have begun above twenty 
 drawings in black and white chalk, at three guineas a piece, and all 
 amongst the first people here. 
 
 “ Though my imprisonment has lost me the opinion of a few peo- 
 ple not worth having, it has interested several in my behalf, who would 
 not otherwise have taken any real pains about me; and these happen 
 to be of the first distinction, both ladies and gentlemen, and some 
 noblemen. — I am sensible 1 have drawn the eyes of the world upon 
 me, and it behoves me both out of regard to myself, and in gratitude 
 to my patrons for their generosity, to exert myself with all my pow- 
 ers, and to observe my conduct with the greatest prudence. — I only 
 lay in the heads, that I may have full employment in the vacation, 
 which will soon commence. I have no fear of not having plenty to 
 do when the young fellows return, because they will not only be less 
 busy, but less poor. — Cambridge is a very delightful place. — Do not 
 let any thing I have told you, mortify you, or be the cause of depress- 
 ing your spirits.— Be so obliging as to let me hear from you shortly, 
 and tell me what you are doing, &c., and you will extremely oblige 
 your 
 
 “ Affectionate brother, 
 
 “Peter Romney.” 
 
 “ P- S. — I have much to say to you, but cannot now spare time, as 
 I have not a moment (of daylight particularly) to spare. Amongst 
 the noblemen, I have drawn Lord John Clinton; Lord Pelham, and 
 I believe Lord Hyde will sit to me; also Lord and Lady Mont- 
 
310 
 
 ford, besides three or four younger sons of noble families. Also Co- 
 ioiiel Wilson and his lady, and Doctor Watson and his lady, who 
 was Miss Wilson of Dallam Tower. — I have met with a great num- 
 ber of young gentlemen out of the different counties where I have 
 been. Young Casson went from the university about a week after I 
 came, for which I was sorry, as his acquaintance are of the first rate ; 
 though several of them are now absent, particularly Lord Ferrars and 
 the Marquis of Granby ; the last 1 believe is in Italy, but is expected 
 here soon to be proposed as member for Cambridge.” 
 
 His disappointments and embarrassments having destroyed the 
 equilibrium of his mind, he sunk into irregularity, ily clandestinely 
 calling in the aid of spirituous liquors* to counteract the morbid me- 
 lancholy that preyed upon his spirits, he only aggravated the evil 
 which he wished to subdue. Cambridge town, in the long vacation, 
 was the worst place he could have chosen for his residence ; for, want 
 of employment and the expensiveness of the place were circumstan- 
 ces, with regard to him, incompatible with each other ; and being 
 pressed hard for payments before the return of the term, he was 
 obliged to withdraw from the place and seek a retreat in London. 
 In the beginning of the year 1777, his brother George having paid 
 his debts and furnished him with all requisites, he was sent to Stock- 
 port with strong recommendations. He was going on well there, 
 and had painted some excellent portraits in crayons ; one I remem- 
 ber seeing of a Mr. Dale, a leading manufacturer of the place, who, 
 I believe, afterwards removed to Lanerk. His constitution, howe- 
 
 *“ With tlie powers of his mind languid or ruffled, the man of genius, to restore their acti- 
 vity and soothe their commotion, too often resorts to artificial means : alcohol and opium are 
 both subservient to his purpose.” — Doctor Stuart’s Essay on Genius and its diseases. Med, 
 and Phy. Journal. 
 
31 1 
 
 ver, was shattered, and death, perhaps in mercy, removed him from 
 this scene of trouble by a sudden and unexpected attack in May 
 1 777, before he had completed his thirty fourth year. 
 
 1 may, perhaps, be censured by some for having- given this brief 
 outline of his unfortunate life ; but it seems to me to be required in 
 some measure as supplementary to that of his brother. I think, also, 
 that such memoirs may sometimes be of use in cautioning young 
 artists of superior genius, who are so liable to be misled by the delu- 
 sions of the imagination, and the impulse of their feelings, against 
 the danger of such indulgences. Youths endowed with such rare 
 faculties, and exposed to the temptations of an unfeeling world, are 
 like light skiffs upon the wide and dangerous ocean, the sport of 
 every blast and storm ; and any twinkling light, however dim, may 
 sometimes, perchance, be of service in guiding them from the impen- 
 ding danger ; for valuable indeed is the cargo, but light and unsteady 
 the ballast. If what 1 have related should induce any wealthy indi- 
 vidual to rescue from distress one suffering genius, or should contri- 
 bute in any degree to promote a general disposition to patronize in- 
 digent but talented men ; I shall have effected an important object, 
 and insteaxl of censure, deserve praise. This account may likewise 
 prevent any mistake in attributing to Mr. Romney the pictures by 
 his brother. He was well qualified to have coped with Cotes as 
 a crayon-painter; but the true bias of his genius would have led him 
 to cultivate the highest branch of the art — but, alas ! he had neither 
 patrons nor money for that purpose. 
 

313 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 B Y 
 
 RICHARD CUMBERLAND, ESQ. 
 
 IN 1776. 
 
 TO Mr. GEORGE ROMNEY. 
 
 “WHILST you was engaged in contemplating those wonderful 
 productions of ancient art, which Italy is enriched with, I was 
 tracing 1 the ruder beauties of nature in a domestic tour thro’ the 
 mountainous parts of Westmoreland and Cumberland. You 
 carried out with you a disinterested passion for your art, with faculties 
 which this country hath rarely given birth to ; and you return from 
 your travels with some specimens of so auspicious a sort, that, when 
 encouragement shall provoke your genius to its full display, we are 
 persuaded you will take rank with the first masters of the highest 
 province and best age of painting. I set out on my expedition with 
 no other pretensions than a devout respect for Nature in her subli- 
 mest shapes, and some small leanings towards the Muse ; not enough 
 to make our intercourse the talk of posterity, but barely sufficient to 
 fill up the hour. The fruit of my tour hath been, what I fear is 
 
 s s 
 
314 
 
 scarce worth laying- at your feet, the following- Irregular Ode, which was 
 literally struct out on the spot, and is addrest to the Sun ; for as the 
 season was far advanced towards winter, we had frequent temptati- 
 ons to invoke that luminary, who was never very gracious to our 
 suit, except whilst we were viewing the lake of Keswick and its 
 accompaniments. 
 
 “ If I should be asked why 1 give that to the world and you, 
 which I really think scarce worthy the acceptance of you and the 
 world, I have only to answer, that if the honest pride of the Friend 
 did not draw it into public, the idle vanity of the Poet would he well 
 content to spare the Press its pains : but the gratification of saying 
 how much I respect your genius and esteem your virtues, finds it an 
 easy task to overcome the remonstrances of Judgment, or the terrors 
 of criticism. 
 
 “Mr. (Pray, whose faculty of describing can give life to scenes 
 which I should have conceived nothing but the pencil could convey, 
 hath left behind him a Journal, for which we are indebted to his can- 
 did friend and editor. This Journal refers to all the scenes hinted at 
 in the following Ode ; and being a book in every body’s hands, makes 
 it unnecessary for me to trouble the Header with any attempts of my 
 own by way of notes, which with the best poems seldom accord, and 
 in my instance might have been a hazardous experiment. 
 
 “ How it came to pass that this enchanting display of sublime and 
 beautiful objects could extort nothing more than a prosaic description 
 from a poetical pen, I am at a loss to guess. I have been favoured 
 with a Manuscript of the late ingenious Dr. Browne, which I had 
 the privilege of inserting in this publication, and should so have done. 
 
315 
 
 but that I found it had already got forth into the world, and was in 
 print. It is touched with great spirit, and in a glowing style, which 
 gradually kindles til! it breaks forth into the following rhapsody, 
 which I believe hath hitherto escaped publication : 
 
 “ Now sunk the Sun, now Twilight sunk, and Night 
 Rode in her zenith ; nor a passing breeze 
 Sigh’d to the groves, which in the midnight air 
 Stood motionless, and in the peaceful floods 
 Inverted hung: For now the billow slept 
 Along the shore, nor heav’d the deep, but spread 
 A shining mirror to the Moon’s pale orb. 
 
 Which, dim and waining o’er the shadowy clifts. 
 
 The solemn woods and spiry mountain-tops 
 Her glimmering faintness threw : Now every eye, 
 Oppress’d with toil, was drown’d in deep repose ; 
 
 Save that the unseen shepherd in his watch, 
 
 Prop! on his crook, stood listening by the fold, 
 
 And gaz’d the starry vault and pendant moon ; 
 
 Nor voice nor sound broke on the deep serene. 
 
 But the soft murmur of swift-gushing rills, 
 
 Forth-issuing from the mountain’s distant steep, 
 
 (Unheard till now, and now scarce heard) proclaim’d 
 All things at rest, and imag’d the still voice 
 Of quiet whispering to the ear of Night. 
 
 “ In fine, says Dr. Browne, this accumulation of beauty and im- 
 mensity tends not only to excite rapture but reverence ; for my part 
 / make an annual voyage to Keswick, not only as an innocent amuse- 
 ment, but a religious act. I walk forth in this stupendous scene. 
 
316 
 
 as into the grandest earthly temple of the Creator ; and as I take 
 my progress thro its several parts, often break forth with the di- 
 vine Psalmist in that grateful exclamation — “ O Lord, how mani- 
 fold are thy works; in wisdom hast thou made them all.” 
 
 “ What I have here inserted is taken from a letter to a friend, and 
 is a valuable specimen of the author. As for the minute delineations, 
 which some travellers affect to give of scenes that come under their 
 contemplation, they seldom convey to my apprehension any map of 
 the place they describe. To you perhaps, whose pictures are lan- 
 guage, language may be a picture ; and as l know you can paint 
 our very words, words may in return paint that to you, of which a 
 less intuitive mind takes no conception ; the bulk of mankind how- 
 ever collect little from these descriptions hut the amusement of read- 
 ing them ; and the most they can effect is to refresh the memories of 
 them, who have been on the spot, or to inspire those, who have not 
 been, with a resolution of going thither. And in truth a more pleas- 
 ing tour than these lakes hold out to men of leisure and curiosity 
 cannot be devised. We penetrate the Glacieres, traverse the Rhone 
 and the Rhine, whilst our own domestic lakes of Ulswater, Keswick, 
 and W yndermere exhibit scenes in so sublime a style, with such 
 beautiful colourings of rock, wood and water, backed with so tremen- 
 dous a disposition of mountains, that if they do not fairly take the 
 lead of all the views in Europe, yet they are indisputably such as no 
 English traveller should leave behind him, provided he be one, who, 
 with my Atficus, loves 
 
 “To follow nature in her simple haunts, 
 
 With early steps to climb the shaggy side 
 
 Of some hoar cliff and meet the dewy breath 
 
317 
 
 Of morning’, issuing from the flowery vale : 
 
 Or soft reclining on the mossy turf 
 Careless to lie, and, as the dimpling brook 
 Steals gently on, with motionless regard 
 To eye the floating mirror; while as fast 
 Down Meditation’s smooth and silent tide 
 In easy lapse his tuneful moments fall, 
 
 Clear and untroubled as the passing stream.” 
 
 “ But the views of our young travelling gentry, as you must well 
 know, are not thus directed : on the road they are couriers ; in the 
 cities they are revellers: Whilst they are journeying there is no re- 
 spite nor repose ; their enquiries extend neither to right hand nor 
 left, and seldom further forward than to the next poste ; the shortest 
 and straightest road to dissipation and pleasure is their’s, all the rest 
 is out of the way ; hut if their course should necessarily carry them 
 to any thing curious in nature, if their road should compel them to 
 the hanks of a torrent, or the brow of a mountain, they are asleep, 
 or it is dark night and they cannot see it, for they are in haste, and 
 want to he at the next great noisy town. And now begins the plan 
 of all their operations ; here they lay in their stock of new cloathes, 
 new taste and new opinions ; in return for which they barter away 
 all their little fund of money, modesty and religion. Here they walk 
 thro’ palaces of pictures with as much edification as a hoarding school 
 girl would thro’ the Museum, or an upholsterer thro’ the Vatican. 
 They have been told of the gusto of the antique, hut where to find 
 it, or how to distinguish it, they know no more than their mothers : 
 \ irtu however is to he purchased, like other superfluities, and in the 
 end their Cicerone lays them in for a bargain, perhaps a patch-work 
 head of Trajan set upon a modern pair of shoulders, and made up 
 with Caracal la s nose and Nero's ears. 
 
318 
 
 Aut curios jam di mi dies, humerove minor cm 
 Corvinum, aut Galbam auriculis nasoque carentem. 
 
 “ Tims equipt with these imperial reliques, with a veritable daub- 
 ing of Raffaelle , copied from the very print which is given to prove 
 its originality, and a huge cameo on the little finger, home they come 
 privileg’d Virtuosi, qualified to condemn every thing that their own 
 countrymen can produce; and thus having contributed all that in 
 them lies to disgrace their native land, thev conclude their career bv 
 affecting to despise it. It is in vain that a native artist exhibits to 
 their view the models of a Mars and a Venus , such as I am bold to 
 say would have done credit to Athens in its purest age; they mav* 
 moulder in his shop for them, unless indeed they have lost a leg or 
 an arm in the ruins of Hadrian s villa, and then they would pur- 
 chase them at twice the cost of the whole figures, 
 
 Miranturque nihil nisi quod Lihitina sacramt. 
 
 “ 1 should be much misunderstood if this was not thought to be 
 said with all due exceptions ; much more, if 1 was supposed insensi- 
 ble to the general uses of travel : this would be only combating one 
 prejudice with another ; let both be cast aside, and men and tilings 
 considered in their true light. There are to be found (and may 
 their numbers multiply !) protectors of living genius, who will admit 
 the Orpheus of Dance and the Ugolino of Reynolds into their choic- 
 est cabinets; and L trust there will be found, with whom your Gra- 
 ces will find an honourable station ; for sure it would be a very 
 antipatriotic prejudice to admit the vulgar drabs of the Flemish, or 
 
 “ * it is superfluous to say this points at Mr. Bacon ; the reader of taste will be sorry to 
 know that these beautiful models have brought nothing hut reputation to their maker. 
 
319 
 
 the theatrical dames of the Italian artist, in preference to a fairer and 
 a chaster progeny, for no better reason than because those were fo- 
 reigners, and these of English parentage : 
 
 Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia cras.se 
 Compositum inlepideve putetur, sed quia nuper : 
 
 Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et prsemia posci. 
 
 “ This is a depravity of taste that does real injury to the genius of 
 the nation, and should for that reason be combated by every* wea- 
 pon that can serve to root out so noxious an infatuation. 
 
 “ I am, &c. <fec. 
 
 “ R. C.” 
 
 “ * The readiest weapon for this office is ridicule. Comedy could not be better employed 
 than in holding up to view a character of the above description ; such prejudices militate as 
 much against antient Art and Science as against modern : I wish some of my brother drama- 
 tists, who have more leisure than I have, would accept and improve upon the hint.” 
 

 
321 
 
 WHEN 1 alluded to the Essay by Mr. Payne Knight, (see page 138,) 
 1 had only read a page at the beginning, and from that inferred that 
 it was dry and metaphysical : 1 have since perused it, and found 
 it not only interesting and instructive, but very clever ; and such as 
 should not by any means be withheld from the public. 1 do not concur 
 with the writer in every passage, but think there is much that will be 
 useful to artists, and out of their usual course of readme-. 
 
 To Mr. Romney. 
 
 “ Dear Sir, 
 
 “ I remember that when I had the pleasure of conversing with you 
 last, I promised to send you my thoughts upon the different modes 
 of interesting the passions in painting. Now 1 come to consider the 
 subject maturely, I find it so difficult, and the passions so involved 
 with the other faculties of the mind, that J almost despair of being 
 able to reduce them to any certain rules. In examining the human 
 mind we must consider it as composed of four distinct faculties, the 
 senses, memory, reason, and passions. Some have added the will, 
 but I rather look upon it as an effect produced by an impression upon 
 one or more of the other faculties. The senses may be considered not 
 only as the vehicles of all knowledge, but as the sources of the very 
 existence of the other faculties ; for it is by them that we acquire all 
 ideas, and without ideas the mind would be no more a real existence 
 than motion without matter. Next to the senses is the memory or 
 store-house of the mind, which not only retains the sensual impres- 
 sions, but also those of the passions, and the results formed by reason. 
 
 T T 
 
The reason, or reflective faculty, shows us what may he from what 
 has been, and how each object of the senses exists by comparing 
 the different impressions it makes upon different organs of sense. 
 When this is licentiously used it is called imagination or fancy, and 
 has been generally treated as a distinct faculty, though in reality it 
 is only a modification of reason and memory. If it w as a distinct 
 faculty we should be able to form notions that have no relation with 
 the sensual impressions; whereas the most extravagant flights of the 
 most extravagant imagination, when we come to examine them ac- 
 curately, are only combinations and abstractions. We can multiply 
 and diminish and vary forms to infinity, but we can have no idea of 
 matter without form, nor can the most boundless imagination define 
 any modes of existence for a new element. If we examine mi- 
 nutely into all the fables of poets or painters we shall find that they 
 have some relation to what really exists. The passions, the most 
 obscure faculty of the mind, are so blended with each other, that it is 
 difficult to distinguish the primary and simple ones from those which 
 are only modifications or effects. The primary passions appear to 
 me to be pride, anger, love, joy, sorrow, and fear. All the rest 
 seem produced by these, as envy and ambition by pride, jealousy by 
 love and pride and fear. Hatred is the reverse of love and may more 
 properly be termed a sensation than a passion, as it generally begins 
 from disgust. Courage is either a coarseness of organization, and 
 want of sensibility, or arises from pride, love, or anger, and even 
 sometimes (paradoxical as it may seem) from pride and fear, as when 
 the fear of dishonour or love of superiority is more powerful than the 
 fear of death. 
 
 “ There is besides another kind of passions which may be termed 
 reflex, as when we catch the feelings of others and appropriate them 
 
323 
 
 to ourselves. The most observable of these is pity, when the ex- 
 ternal expressions of grief transfuse the sentiments which cause them 
 from one person to another. The same effect is observable in all the 
 passions, and is called sympathy. How it acts is altogether unknown. 
 Particular passions, such as rage and terror, have been observed to 
 pass through a whole people from no other causes than a particular 
 tone of voice or cast of features expressive of those passions. These 
 expressions are natural and not acquired as articulate sounds are ; 
 hence in all societies, and all climates, they are nearly the same, 
 liven those of animals have a resemblance with those of man, parti- 
 cularly their plaintive tones. It is to these reflex passions that the 
 painter, as well as the musician, must attend. He must endeavour 
 to give those casts of features and positions of limbs, that are ex- 
 pressive of the passions he wishes to transfuse into the breast of the 
 spectator. This is only to be acquired by a long and accurate study 
 of nature. He must discover the physical effects of each particular 
 passion upon the human frame, and the particular forms or faces 
 that are more or less subject to such passions. It, would be imperti- 
 nent in me to offer you any observations in detail upon this branch, 
 as you must necessarily have made them yourself, ft is a kind of 
 knowledge that is only to be acquired by experience, and even that 
 without study and attention will sometimes lead into error. Many 
 modern artists have not been careful enough to distinguish mental or 
 passionate sorrow 7 from sensual pain, though their effects upon the 
 body are absolutely different. Mental sorrow produces a careless 
 position of the limbs, a sullen and fixed look, and a general languor 
 and repose through the whole frame. Bodily pain, on the contrary, 
 contracts the nerves, distorts the features, swells the veins, and 
 makes the eyes appear glaring and distracted. It is also necessary 
 to be particularly attentive to the difference between pain, and that 
 
324 
 
 languor and relaxation of the whole body which immediately suc- 
 ceeds it ; when the fibres having lost their elasticity, are no longer 
 capable of suffering. The first is finely marked in the Laocoon and 
 the last in the dying Gladiator. To endeavour to show the physical 
 effects of each particular passion upon the body, would carry me be- 
 yond the bounds of a letter, besides its being a subject to which de- 
 scription is not adequate. W hat I wish most to examine is that kind 
 of pleasing awe and veneration which we feel upon viewing those kind 
 of objects which we call sublime. This appears to me to arise from 
 a mixture of pride and fear. — We are elevated and terrified at the 
 same time. — We transfer the greatness and superiority which we see 
 in another to ourselves at the same time that we are inspired with a 
 secret awe and respect. There are two kinds of objects in painting 
 which produce this sentiment which we call sublime. As they act 
 upon different principles and in different modes, I shall consider 
 them separately, and for distinction’s sake call the one infinite and 
 the other finite. The first is when a single object is expressive of 
 boundless strength or power ; or when a number of objects appear 
 in succession, and extend beyond the reach of sight. The mind is 
 led beyond the sense and lost in the infinity of space. Salvator Rosa 
 has excelled all other painters in this kind of sublimity. His picture 
 of Saul and the Witch of Endor at Versailles is the greatest effort of 
 imagination. It shows a boundless extent of phantastic objects which 
 the mind grasps at in vain. This kind of sublimity is more for the 
 poet than the painter. The certainty of lines and colours removes 
 that dubiousness, and recalls the imagination from wandering into 
 infinity. Hence the most sublime descriptions of Homer, Virgil, and 
 Milton become ridiculous when painted. Tasso says that God sat 
 in the throne of eternity, and under his feet were fate and nature ; 
 and motion and time. How much of its grandeur would this noble 
 
325 
 
 passage lose if a painter was to particularize the allegorical persons. 
 The infinite sublime may sometimes he produced in landscape. A 
 river winding between vast chains of mountains, such as we 
 sometimes see in the works of Salvator Rosa, leads the mind be- 
 yond what the eye sees. The figure painter who produces all 
 his effects by expression and attitudes must generally be content 
 with that kind of sublimity which is within the bounds of sight. 
 The modern artists have generally failed in this from working 
 upon wrong principles; they have endeavoured to produce the 
 desired effect by forms instead of expression. Lines, however 
 varied, will never inspire awe or reverence, except the general 
 character of the figure shows a conscious greatness, which by sympa- 
 thy is transferred into the breast of the spectator. It is a wrong no- 
 tion that Michael Angelo first introduced, that sublimity consists in 
 large figures and far-fetched attitudes. If one analyzes the finest 
 statue in the world, it is no other than a mass of brass or marble, To 
 suppose that there is any thing awful in the forms themselves is as 
 absurd as to find sublimity iu the fashion of a coat. The sublime in 
 painting consists in expression, not in forms. An easy negligent at- 
 titude, that shows a mind above trifles, entirely occupied with great 
 and exalted thoughts, has more true greatness than all the researched 
 attitudes of the Florentine school. The mind catches the feelings it sees 
 expressed in the picture or statue. Every contortion out of ordinary 
 nature rather lessens than increases the effect. It shows an attention 
 to trivial things, and seems as if the hero was anxious about the po- 
 sition of his person. All the vastness of muscles, or strength of limbs, 
 will not make Hercules look like a great conqueror, if his attention 
 appears to be employed about his attitude, which it must be when 
 there is any thing in it different from ordinary nature. The Moses, 
 the most easy and natural of all Michael Angelo’s works, is the most 
 
326 
 
 sublime. Tbe ease and negligence with which he sits, show a mind 
 occupied with remote cogitations, — unmoved by any sensual impres- 
 sions. The imagination naturally magnifies what it cannot clearly 
 comprehend, and when the attention seems fixed upon objects un- 
 known to us, we naturally suppose those objects great. The tombs 
 of the Medici, at Florence, have done more in corrupting taste, than 
 even the pictures of Pietro di Cortona. Parts of them are so exceed- 
 ingly fine, — the figures of Lorenzo de Medici and the Aurora are so 
 animated and so expressive of true greatness, that people in the 
 warmth of admiration, have confounded the beauties with the defects, 
 and have imitated the latter, when they were not able to reach the for- 
 mer. You must have observed, during your abode at Florence, tbe 
 figure of St. Mark by Fra Bartolomeo, in tbe Pitti palace. Perhaps 
 it is the most perfect example of true sublimity now existing. Every 
 tiling show s ease and majesty. His attention seems occupied in great 
 thoughts, which yet have not the pow er to ruffle that tranquil superi- 
 ority which be seems to possess. Large colossal figures have been 
 another source of false sublimity. While the artist represents real 
 and not imaginary beings, it makes little difference w hether he re- 
 presents them three, or three hundred, feet high. The mind reduces 
 the colossus and miniature equally to the standard of nature, before it 
 feels their effects. The greatest quantity of marble cannot make a 
 mean character appear great, nor the smallest, a great one contemp- 
 tible. The little picture of the vision of Ezekiel, is perhaps the most 
 sublime of all Raphael's w orks. 1 think myself that the ordinary size 
 of nature is the best for expressing the sublime and beautiful, as the 
 impression upon the mind is more instantaneous. We associate the 
 idea of the picture or statue with what it represents so rapidly, that 
 the act itself escapes the attention. 
 
327 
 
 “ You have, without doubt, read Mr. Burke’s hook on the sublime 
 and beautiful. I esteem many of his observations very much, but 
 cannot conceive what he means by sublime smells, or indeed sublime 
 sensations of any kind. Sublimity appears to me to affect only the 
 passions. All sensual impressions are totally of another class, for 
 which reason 1 have been so particular in distinguishing the different 
 faculties of the mind. All authors that I have read upon the subject, 
 have in some measure confounded them. 
 
 “ A single figure is more proper for the sublime than a groupe. 
 Parts, though ever so judiciously connected, distract the attention. 
 The same simplicity is to be observed in the colours as in the com- 
 position. All glare of tints, or even the ordinary variety of nature is 
 to be avoided. Every affection of the senses weakens the affections 
 of the passions. Beautiful colouring, or any thing that is pleasing to 
 the sense, exhilarates the mind, and is consequently improper for the 
 sublime which disposes us to be serious. Perhaps Andrea del Sarto’s 
 colouring is the best adapted to grand subjects, as it aims at nothing 
 but harmony. In expressing the passions with dignity, great care 
 should be taken to avoid running into extremes. In exalted minds 
 the most violent agitations never produce any extravagant contortions, 
 either of limb or feature. Amidst the agonies of grief and pain, or 
 the exultations of joy, a great man will ever preserve the superior 
 majesty and sublimity of his character. Julius Caesar was so solici- 
 tous in his last moments to preserve it, that he wrapt his face in his 
 cloak, lest any signs of pain or fear should discover the weakness of 
 human nature. A great mind should appear to feel deeply, and yet 
 suffer boldly. One contemplates such an object, with a mixture of 
 pity and reverence, one feels at the same time, a kind of sympathetic 
 elevation of spirits, in seeing human nature in its most exalted state, 
 
328 
 
 ami exerting 1 with dignity its noblest faculties. The dying Hercules 
 of Guido, and more particularly the Laocoon, are excellent examples 
 of this kind. V irgil in his description of the death of Laocoon, has 
 much degraded Lis character, by making him cry out. The sculptor 
 with more judgment has represented him stifling his voice, and strug- 
 gling with pain. Every nerve seems convulsed with agony, but the 
 breast being expanded, and the throat compressed, show that the 
 breath is restrained, and that he suffers in silence. 
 
 “ In the expressions of passions, not only different degrees of the 
 same passion have very different effects, but also the same degree in 
 different persons. This variety is finely described by Tasso, where 
 the death of Clorinda is told in Jerusalem. The grief of the women 
 dissolves into tears and lamentations, that of the old Arsetes becomes 
 fixed in a silent melancholy, and that of the brave Argantes bursts 
 into indignation and protestations of vengeance. In such subjects 
 the painter should be particularly careful to avoid all niceties of dress 
 or ornament. His dresses ought to be simple drapery without any 
 relation to modes or qualities. A rigid attention to the customs of 
 times and places draws the attention to trifles. The ancients dis- 
 carded it from the portraits of their own times, and the dresses one 
 sees on the statues of Augustus, Trajan, and the Antonines have sel- 
 dom any resemblance with those which they really wore. It would 
 be much for the advantage of the arts if the moderns would allow the 
 same liberty. 
 
 “ it lias been already observed that imaginary beings are in gene- 
 ral improper for painting, as they almost always owe their sublimity 
 to a certain obscurity which the exactitude of the pencil entirely re- 
 moves. I he witches of Macbeth are very sublime when we read the 
 
329 
 
 play, but become ridiculous, when represented on the theatre. When 
 the fancy is not confined within the fields of vision, it wanders beyond 
 the bounds of nature, but when its objects are subjected to the or- 
 gans of sense, the illusion vanishes. The greatest descriptions of the 
 poets are generally obscure hints, which rather rouse than satisfy the 
 imagination. The painter must remember that this is the infinite 
 sublime, and consequently beyond the reach of his art. Those who 
 have had the boldness to attempt it, have generally degraded instead 
 of exalting the images of the poets. They have by confining them 
 within the bounds of lines, made the infinite finite. The figure in 
 the vision of Ezekiel, is perhaps the most sublime that imagination 
 can conceive, if considered only as a human figure ; but when one 
 compares it with the descriptions of the prophet, and considers it as 
 representing the Being who fills all space and lives through all time, 
 it becomes mean and inadequate. 
 
 “ There is a grandeur and sublimity in animals of the brute crea- 
 tion, especially those of the more savage kind. Some have supposed 
 this to arise from a degree of terror which they inspire. This may 
 have some effect, but certainly is not the sole, nor even the principal 
 cause, or a scorpion or tarantula would be more sublime than a horse 
 or an elephant. The most terrible animals are not those which fill 
 the mind with that kind of pleasing awe and reverence, which we feel 
 from a sublime object, but those whose appearance is most expressive 
 of dignity, it is not the lion’s teeth and claws which inspire it, or a 
 serpent, or mad dog would in a superior degree. It is the majesty 
 of his port, and the commanding ferocity of his eye. A fine horse is 
 one of the grandest of all animals, though we fear nothing at all from 
 him. I lie same sympathy which makes one man catch the feelings 
 of another, makes us catch those of animals. There are certain looks 
 
 u u 
 
330 
 
 and gestures, which by a certain mechanic impulse, inspire particu- 
 lar passions prior to any acquired ideas. A child soon after his birth 
 will smile and stretch forth his hands when one looks at him cheer- 
 fully ; sorry and endeavour to conceal himself when one frowns and 
 looks angry. The same effect is observable in many other young 
 animals, particularly dogs. Some men have possessed such a ferocity 
 of countenance, as to terrify the fiercest of the animal creation, mere- 
 ly by their looks. It is not to be supposed that the animal reflects 
 and conceives an idea of the superiority of that particular man over 
 any other, but that a kind of mechanic impulse — a contagious panic 
 seizes him. These effects are painful when really felt, and yet be- 
 come pleasing when felt by sympathy. In the first instance we are 
 terrified by the greatness and superiority of the object — in the se- 
 cond we sympathize with, and are elated by that very greatness and 
 superiority. To explain this more clearly, we must draw examples 
 from poetry. The jealousy of Othello, and horrors of Macbeth would 
 he painful if really felt, and yet how pleasing are they when well re- 
 presented. The cause is that we sympathize with the effects of those 
 passions, rather than with the passions themselves. It is not the jea- 
 lousy hut the distress occasioned by it, that melts us in Othello, nor 
 is it with the horrors of guilt that we sympathize in Macbeth, but the 
 courage and endurance with which he bears them. Many have 
 thought it extraordinary that the same distresses and afflictions should 
 he pleasing when represented, which would he painful were we to 
 see them really suffered by others. I am inclined to think that the 
 pain we feel for the distresses of others is merely an effect of social 
 refinement, and that in a state of nature our sentiments would be 
 much the same, as we feel at the theatre, attended with a secret joy. 
 The histories of all ages show that men are naturally cruel, as well 
 as all other animals of prey, for whenever they have possessed unlimi- 
 
331 
 
 ted power, they have always used it to the destruction of others. If 
 a wolf gets among a flock of sheep he will kill as many as he possi- 
 bly can, though a single one were more than sufficient to satisfy his 
 hunger. We find in the histories of the ancient Gauls and Germans, 
 as well as in those of the American savages, that whole nations laid 
 waste their own country, and sallied out in quest of some other, mere- 
 ly for the pleasure of ravaging and destroying. What is the plea- 
 sure of hunting or shooting but the gratification of that love of slaugh- 
 ter ? 
 
 “ I find my subject leading me insensibly farther than my first 
 plan, which was only to give you my thoughts upon the passions, as 
 far as they relate to your profession ; but the human mind is so great 
 a subject, that when one begins it is difficult to tell where to end. I 
 have often formed a plan for a complete theory of all its faculties, hut 
 I find the execution of it above my strength. I would have begun 
 with the senses, and considered them as the means by which we ac- 
 quire all ideas, and the organs which unite all nature in one great 
 and complex machine. I would then have examined the nature of 
 sensual pleasure and pain, with their influence upon, and connection 
 with the other faculties of the mind. From the senses I would have 
 gone to the memory, and have endeavoured to show the mechanism 
 ol recollection and invention, the boundaries of imagination, (fee. In 
 considering the understanding, I would have traced as accurately as 
 1 could, the nature and extent of human knowledge, the means which 
 facilitate or impede the acquiring it, with the modes and extent of as- 
 sociations and abstractions. The passions would have afforded a still 
 more extensive subject for enquiry. Their connection with the phy- 
 sical organs, their modes of acting, their different degrees and differ- 
 ent effects upon different constitutions, their influence in the pleasures 
 
332 
 
 we receive from poetry, painting-, and music ; the whole moral system 
 of man in his various connections natural and civil, would all come 
 under this head. 
 
 “It is now some years since I have quitted these kind of specula- 
 tions, and devoted the little time I give to study, to history and mo- 
 rality, sciences that are more likely to be useful to me. I should not 
 have troubled you with these loose thoughts had it not been your de- 
 sire, and the hopes of giving some hints that may be useful to your 
 art. You will excuse inaccuracies, and remember that 1 write as a 
 traveller without books or memorandums. 
 
 “ I am most sincerely yours, 
 
 “R. P. Knight.” 
 
 Rome, November 24th, 
 
 1776. 
 
 STEPHEN TYSON, PRINTER, KING STREET, ULVERSTON. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 P. L. 
 
 9 — 25, for judgement read judgment. 
 
 10—16, for befel read befell. 
 
 12 — 9 & 23, for Gardner read Gardener. 
 
 27 — 21, for Watteau read Watteau. 
 
 37 — 26, for over read upon. 
 
 47 — 20, for unpatronized read unpatronised. 
 
 54 — 9, after one day put a comma. 
 
 15, for Reynold’s read Reynolds. 
 
 57 — 13, for forever read for ever. 
 
 58 — 9, for is standing by her, and apparently, 
 
 read and standing by her, is apparently. 
 
 68 — 19, for muses read Muses. 
 
 77 — 28, for frize read frieze. 
 
 100 — 9, for Raffaele read Raffaelle. 
 
 118 — 21, after school of insert the. 
 
 1 19 — 24, put a comma after however. 
 
 120 — 8, for of read off. 
 
 123 — 19, for Milns read Milnes. 
 
 137 — 20, dele afterwards, and in line 22, for just at 
 the time substitute afterwards. 
 
 138 &. 197, for Paine read Payne. 
 
 143, for Crispigny read Crespigny, and in ult. put 
 a comma a fter perhaps. 
 
 p. L. 
 
 146 — 11, before interesting insert extremely. 
 
 15 1 — 2, dele guineas. 
 
 154 — 8, for Tnurdain read Jourdain. 
 
 155, for Pilkinton read Pilkington. 
 
 198 — 14, for Seamstress read Semstress. 
 
 in penult, for Clonfort read Clonfert. 
 212—1, for Reynold’s read Reynolds’. 
 
 216 — 26, for Carrardine read Oarwardine. 
 
 220 — 22, for appendage read appennage. 
 
 223 — 25, for Fitzaekley read, Fazakley. 
 
 229 — 6, put a comma, after after. 
 
 238 — 24, for ft having now, however, become read 
 But it having now become. 
 
 245—21, dele a before sufficient. 
 
 248 — 2, for tranquilizing read tranquillizing. 
 
 254 — 20, dele comma after uneasiness. 
 
 262 — 1 6 , dele comma after design. 
 
 27 1 — 8, after extract insert from a letter. 
 
 305 — 12, put a comma after Brierley. 
 
 310, for Fcrrars read Ferrers. 
 
 31 1—18, for patronize read patronise. 
 
 330 — 4, for sorry read and cry. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Memoirs of the life ™!T y ',. JOhn ' 1758 -> 
 me life and works of George 
 
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