elicacy of the
entertainment, provided it were wholesome." Here he quotes at length, no
very good-natured account of the dinners given by Courteney.--P. 273.
Even his sister, poor Miss Reynolds, whom Johnson loved and respected,
must have her share of the writer's sarcasm. "Miss Reynolds seems to
have been as indifferent about the good order of her domestics, and the
appearance of her dishes at table, as her brother was about the
distribution of his wine and venison. Plenty was the splendour, and
freedom was the elegance, which Malone and Boswell found in the
entertainments of the artist."--P. 275. If Reynolds was sparing of his
wine, the word "plenty" was most inappropriate. Even the remark of
Dunning, Lord Ashburton, is perverted from its evident meaning, and as
explained by Northcote, and the perversion casts a slur upon Sir
Joshua's guests; yet is it well known who they were. "Well, Sir Joshua,"
he said, "and who have you got to dine with you to-day?--the last time I
dined in your house, the company was of such a sort, that by ----, I
believe all the rest of the world enjoyed peace for that afternoon."--P.
276. This is a gross idea, and unworthy a gentle mind. "By an opinion so
critically sagacious, and an apology for portrait-painting, which
appeals so effectually to the kindly side of human nature, Johnson
repaid a hundred dinners."--P. 276. The liberality to De Gree is shortly
told.--P. 298. "I have said that the President was frugal in his
communications respecting the sources from whence he drew his own
practice--he forgets his caution in one of these notes."--P. 303. We
must couple this with some previous remarks; it is well known that Sir
Joshua, as Northcote tells us, carefully locked up his experiments, and
for more reasons than one: first, he was dissatisfied, as these were but
experiments; secondly, he considered experimenting would draw away
pupils from the rudiments of the art. Surely nothing but illiberal
dislike would have perverted the plain meaning of the act. "The secret
of Sir Joshua's own preparations was carefully kept--he permitted not
even the most favoured of his pupils to acquire the knowledge of his
colours--he had all securely locked, and allowed no one to enter where
these treasures were deposited. What was the use of all this secrecy?
Those who stole the mystery of his colours, could not use it, unless
they stole his skill and talent also. A man who, like Reynolds, chooses
to take upon hi