for which a Miss Emily, a celebrated courtesan, sat, . . . and what others I know not, but his room and gallery are both crowded.'

It may be gathered from this that there are paintings by Reynolds enough to form a complete gallery, containing of beauty and talent the most remarkable collection of portraits that has ever been claimed by one man as his own; but my present concern is with those of the inner circle, and with an audience supposed to be wanting to know what opportunities are offered of seeing either the pictures themselves, or copies sufficiently good to be treasured.

One studies the subject to learn that Reynolds in practice had restlessly empirical habits, and the consequence is that not a few of his paintings have lost a great deal of their original quality, whilst others of course have been spoiled by repeated attempts to restore them; and since this is the fact it follows that the copies of the engravers are always increasing in value. It would be true of a poorer set for this reason; but the engravings we actually have are simply. marvels of art, and the public is kept well informed of the prices the rarest command. There are prints being sold while I write-Sir Joshua Reynolds's portrait of the Duchess of Rutland,

engraved by Valentine Green, 1000 guineas, and others at 'famine prices'; Mrs. Sheridan as 'St. Cecilia' by Dickinson, 240 guineas, etc. Peculiarly English since its introduction to England has been the art of the mezzotint engraver, and the works of such men as those above named, with others whose numbers are great, made Reynolds feel sure of the life beyond death that is promised. A longer paper than this has been devoted to this one subject alone, but no more shall be said of it here than his biographers tell us. 'It is worth noting,' they say, 'that engraving has never flourished in this country as at that time, when the engraver reaped the chief gains of his work, and not the painter or publisher. He gave his pictures to the engraver, and was always beset by applicants.'

They were the happiest who made their collections then, for the following, though not an exact copy, is like what we commonly find on prints of the period :

'Publisht as the Act directs, at the Blew Pidgins, Gt. Queen St.; 3s.'

The Johnsonian of whom I pretend to know most is an imaginary creature, knowing so little

of art that there must be a considerable tract of uncultivated land on his intellectual estate; and now that his hero's life is about to be illustrated with portraits, it may seem that the time has arrived for learning a little at least.

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There is probably no book so well indexed as Dr. Birkbeck Hill's famous edition of Boswell, but there are other editions from which a pretty full list may be made of those whose portraits we want; and the next step, having made that, is to compare the said list with another containing the names of the men who gave sittings to Reynolds.

'As when a painter poring on a face

Divinely through all hindrance finds the man
Behind it, and so paints him that his face,
The shape and colour of a mind and life,
Lives for his children.'

There were hindrances enough in all conscience, as in Boswell's peculiar case; but some such a painter was Reynolds, upholding some such a standard, and it can hardly be said too emphatically that the friends of his choice were most fortunate in having a really great painter amongst them. There were representatives, as has been said, of almost every possible calling, and none but the foremost in each. Eclectic

Including those that were painted but never engraved, it would have been almost, if not quite, possible to illustrate these six volumes with portraits by Reynolds alone.

Painted, but never engraved, were portraits by Reynolds of Johnson's earliest love Molly Aston, or Ashton, and copies would have been published if it had been found to be possible. Either in jest or in earnest the Immortal was always in love, and there was probably more of reality in these early affairs than in others of which we are told; but as much may be said of us all, and one doesn't want everything changed.

'Of Dr. Beattie I should have thought much, but that his lady puts him out of my head—a most lovely woman,' said Johnson, writing to Boswell. Are there portraits of Mrs. Beattie, I wonder; or of Mr. Tom Davies's wife? 'Lead us not into temptation,' said the doctor, as if to himself, and the husband enjoyed it immensely. The authors of Reynolds's Life are naturally tempted to institute a comparison between their hero and Johnson, and claim for the painter immunity from attacks to which Johnson was somewhat morbidly subject. But this amounts

to

no more than that Reynolds's case was exceptional, whereas Johnson's would have been normal if Nature had treated him fairly. We must make some allowance here, as in every similar case, and having done that it will seem that his feelings and experiences were so nearly the same as our own that nothing need be explained. Let there be talk as much as you please, but none intended to hurt.

There is no mention of any very serious affair with the wearers of the blue stockings, and if their portraits are shown, it is because of the laurels they won in the field that is open to all.

'Lo! e'en the fair with learned fury fraught!
On beauty's brow affect the frown of thought;
Clorinda with electric ardour glows,

And frights with full-charg'd battery her beaux ;
While Cupid trembling, flies th' infected ground
Scar'd at the philosophic scowl around!'

This style of writing died hard. (The author, Sir Martin Shee.)

While the talk is of ladies, there enters a Mrs. Emmet. In love with an actress

here,' he said, and he heaved a sigh, recall

ing a seizure of passion him forty years earlier.

which laid hold of But Mrs. Emmet,