Reynolds had, some time before, lost his venerable father; and he had now to act entirely on his own judgment and discretion. But having been long and enthusiastically eager to visit Italy, and being in possession of funds sufficient to defray the expense, he availed himself of the friendly proposal, and sailed in May, 1749. Having visited various places of interest, and been introduced, at Algiers, to the Dey, he landed at Port Mahon, in Minorca, where he was treated with much courtesy, and entertained with great hospitality, by the governor. There he added to his skill and means by painting portraits of many officers on the station; but at the same time encountered, and suffered from, an accident of considerable severity. One day as he was refreshing himself with a ride, his horse suddenly took fright, ran off, and rushed wildly over a precipice. The rider was not unhurt by the fall; and indeed his upper lip was so sadly bruised that part of it had to be cut away; so that a scar, which remained visible to the close of his life, was the consequence. Meantime he proceeded to Rome, where he had been advised to place himself under the tuition of Battoni; but on examining the works of that master he deemed it most judicious to trust to his own perception, and concentrate his study on the paintings that had stood the test of time and criticism. In this resolution he persevered, with so little reference to the inclemency of seasons that he was attacked, while pursuing his investigations, with a serious cold. The effect of this mishap was permanent. It brought on the deafness which reduced him to the necessity of using an ear-trumpet while engaged in conversation, and furnished his acquaintance (Goldsmith) with the well-known and oft-quoted lines in the “Retaliation,”―― “When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.” While at Rome, Reynolds was less employed by English travelers than might have been anticipated; and he seems to have considered the time so occupied as being almost lost. Before leaving, however, he executed an approved likeness of himself, and an interesting parody on Raphael’s “School of Athens.” He remained as long as the state of his finances rendered prudent, and afterward gave it as his mature opinion, that any artist, with large views, should rather live on bread and water than forego advantages never enjoyed a second time, and not to be found but in the Vatican. Michael Angelo he regarded as “the Homer of Painting.” On his way home, at the foot of Mont Cenis, he encountered his old master, Hudson, in company with Roubiliac the sculptor. The former hurried on, with hot speed, to gratify his eyes with a sight of the “Eternal City;” and accomplished his purpose so hastily that he arrived at Calais in time to cross in the same packet with the pupil, whose excellence had excited his apprehensions and kindled his ire.