"But a second casual visit presented me with a very different object; he
was then painting the body, and in his sitting chair a very squalid
beggar-woman was placed, with a child, not above a year old, quite
naked, upon her lap. As may be imagined, I could not help testifying my
surprise at seeing him paint the carnation of the goddess of beauty from
that of a little child, which seemed to have been nourished rather with
gin than with milk, and saying that 'I wondered he had not taken some
more healthy-looking model;' but he answered, with his usual _naïveté_,
that, 'whatever I might think, the child's flesh assisted him in giving
a certain _morbidezza_ to his own coloring, which he thought he should
hardly arrive at had he not such an object, when it was extreme (as it
certainly was), before his eyes."
Among the many famous portraits of this year and the next was that of
the Countess Waldegrave, Horace Walpole's beautiful niece Maria,
afterwards Duchess of Gloucester. The earl was the most trusted friend
of George II., and, for a short time, prime minister. Walpole mentions
the countess being mobbed in the park one Sunday when in company with
Lady Coventry, so that several sergeants of the guards marched before
and behind them to keep off the admiring crowd. Also that of the
beautiful Elizabeth Gunning, afterward Duchess of Argyle, and the sister
of Admiral Keppel, afterwards Marchioness of Tavistock. "This is one of
the painter's loveliest and best preserved female portraits. The dress
is white, with a rose in the bosom, and the expression inimitably
maidenly and gentle."
This year, Reynolds removed to a fine home in Leicester Square, where he
remained as long as he lived, having a suburban home at Richmond Villa.
His own painting-room was octagonal, "about twenty feet long and sixteen
in breadth. The window which gave the light to the room was square, and
not much larger than one-half the size of a common window in a private
house; whilst the lower part of this window was nine feet four inches
from the floor. The chair for his sitters was raised eighteen inches
from the floor, and turned on casters. His palettes were those which are
held by a handle, not those held on the thumb. The stocks of his pencils
were long, measuring about nineteen inches. He painted in that part of
the room nearest to the window, and never sat down when he worked."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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