Gainsborough (Thomas), R.A.
THIS eminent landscape painter was born at Sudbury, in Suffolk, in 1727. His father was a clothier by trade, and of very peculiar habits. It was to his mother, an accomplished woman, that he owed so much affectionate encouragement during his boyhood. He often absented himself from school, and spent the time sketching the picturesque dwellings with overhanging storeys in his neighbourhood. It has been said of him, “Nature was his teacher, and the woods of Suffolk were his Academy.” His affection for his birthplace was very great throughout his career, and there was not a tree of any beauty there that was not treasured in his memory. At the age of fifteen he left for London, and returned disappointed to Sudbury after four years’ absence. On his return to his native town he devoted himself to the study of landscape, and soon after married the handsome Margaret Burr, who brought an annuity of £200. Still he studied hard, and his fame extended. It was in 1774, after thirty-three years, he returned to the metropolis, his fame having long preceded him. With a splendid income, he occupied Schomberg House, Pall Mall, at a rental of £300 a year. Here there was much demand upon his industry by royalty, peers, and commoners. He died in August, 1788, in the sixty-second year of his age.
THE CONCEITED ALDERMAN.
Gainsborough was one day painting the portrait of a rich citizen, who told the painter that he had come in his new five-guinea wig. His manner and his attempts to look pretty had such an effect upon the artist, it was with the greatest difficulty he was prevented laughing in his face. At length, when the worthy alderman begged he would not overlook the dimple in his chin, his manner was so simpering that no power of his face could withstand it; Gainsborough burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, threw his pencils on the floor, and d—ning the dimple, declared he could not paint that or the alderman either, and never touched the picture more.
THE ARTIST’S INDEPENDENCE.
A gentleman being disappointed at not receiving his picture, called upon the painter, and inquired of the porter in a loud voice, “Has that fellow, Gainsborough, finished my portrait?” He was shown into the studio, where he beheld his portrait, and was much pleased with it. After ordering the artist to send it home forthwith, he added, “I may as well give you a cheque for the other fifty guineas.” “Stay a minute,” said Gainsborough, “it just wants a finishing stroke;” and snatching up a background brush, he dashed it across the smiling features, indignantly exclaiming, “Sir, where is my fellow now?”
HIS LETTER TO THE DUKE OF BEDFORD.
“My Lord Duke,—A most worthy, honest man, and one of the greatest geniuses for musical compositions England ever produced, is now in London, and has got two or three members of parliament along with him out of Devonshire, to make application for one of the receivers of the land-tax of that county, now resigned by a very old man, one Mr. Haddy. His name is William Jackson; lives at Exeter; and for his plainness, truth, and ingenuity, at the same time, is beloved as no man ever was. Your grace has doubtless heard his compositions; but he is no fiddler, your grace may take my word for it. He is extremely clever and good, is a married man with a young family, and is qualified over and over for the place; has got friends of fortune who will be bound for him in any sum; and they are all making application to His Grace the Duke of Grafton to get him the place. But, my Lord Duke, I told him they could not do it without me; that I must write to your grace about it. He is at Mr. Arnold’s, in Norfolk Street, in the Strand; and if your grace would be pleased to think of it, I should be ever bound to pray for your grace. Your grace knows that I am an original, and therefore, I hope, will be the more ready to pardon this monstrous freedom from your grace’s, etc.,
Thomas Gainsborough.”
MRS. SIDDONS’S NOSE.
Mrs. Siddons sat for her portrait to Mr. Scott, of North Britain, who observed, the nose gave him great trouble. “Ah!” said the great actress, “Gainsborough was a good deal troubled the same way. He had altered and varied the shape a long while, when at last he threw down the pencil, exclaiming, ‘D—n the nose! there is no end to it.’” The pun was applicable, as that lady had a long nose.
CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE.
A neighbour, having his garden robbed on several occasions, could never hit upon the thief. It happened one morning early, the painter, then a mere boy, walked in the garden sketching, when he observed a man pop his head over the garden wall. Being unobserved, the young artist had sufficient time to sketch the robber’s head, and from its accuracy, on showing it to a neighbour, the fellow was immediately recognised as living in the neighbourhood, and was accordingly apprehended.
THE GERMAN PROFESSOR.
The painter gave all the hours of intermission in his profession to fiddles and rebecs. His musical taste was very great; and he himself thought he was not intended by nature for a painter, but for a musician. Happening to see a theorbo in a picture of Vandyke’s, he concluded it must be a fine instrument. He recollected to have heard of a German professor; and, ascending to his garret, found him dining on roasted apples, and smoking his pipe, with his theorbo beside him. “I am come to buy your lute—name your price, and here’s your money.” “I cannot sell my lute.” “No, not for a guinea or two;—but you must sell it, I tell you.” “My lute is worth much money—it is worth ten guineas.” “Aye, that it is!—see, here’s the money.” So saying, he took up the instrument, laid down the price, went half-way downstairs, and returned. “I have done but half my errand; what is your lute worth if I have not your book?” “What book, Master Gainsborough?” “Why, the book of airs you have composed for the lute.” “Ah, sir, I can never part with my book!” “Pooh! you can make another at any time—this is the book I mean—there’s ten guineas for it; so, once more, good day.” He went down a few steps, and returned again. “What use is your book to me if I don’t understand it?—and your lute—you may take it again if you won’t teach me to play on it. Come home with me, and give me the first lesson.” “I will come to-morrow.” “You must come now.” “I must dress myself.” “For what? You are the best figure I have seen to-day.” “I must shave, sir.” “I honour your beard.” “I must, however, put on my wig.” “D—n your wig! Your cap and beard become you! Do you think if Vandyke was to paint you, he’d let you be shaved?”
THE ARTIST’S RETORT TO THE LAWYER.
Having to attend as a witness in an action brought by Desenfans against Vandergucht, both devotees to art, the painter was asked by the cross-examining counsel whether he did not think there was something necessary besides the eye to regulate an artist’s opinion respecting a picture? “I believe,” replied Gainsborough, “the veracity and integrity of a painter’s eye is at least equal to a pleader’s tongue.”