person, as they passed in the street, called out, "There it is!" At Mr. Rogers's sale, in 1856, it was purchased by Earl Fitzwilliam for 980 guineas. The grown-up person of the sitter for Puck was in Messrs. Christie and Manson's room, during the sale, and stood next to Lord Fitzwilliam, who is also a survivor of the sitters to Sir Joshua. The merry boy, whom Sir Joshua found upon his door-steps, was subsequently a porter at Elliot's brewery, in Pimlico.

SIR JOSHUA RETIRES FROM THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

The close of the President's life was embittered by a feud with the Royal Academy, where he had reigned paramount from its first institution. He had carried his zeal too far in behalf of Bonomi, an Italian architect, in opposition to Fuseli, in the choice of Academician; and the latter being elected by a majority of two to one, Sir Joshua quitted the chair deeply offended, and wrote a cold and courteous farewell. The Academy endeavoured to soothe him; and the King, through Sir William Chambers, conveyed the royal wish that Sir Joshua would continue President. He relented, and resumed the chair, but only to resign it, with more kindly feeling, after an occupation of twenty-one years.

Reynolds made his last appearance in the Academy in 1790, when he addressed the students on the delivery of the medals. Mr. Rogers thus describes the scene: "I was present when Sir Joshua Reynolds delivered his last lecture at the Royal Academy. On entering the room, I found that a semicircle of chairs, immediately in front of the pulpit, was reserved for persons of distinction, being labelled, ‘Mr. Burke,' 'Mr. Boswell,' &c. &c.; and I, with other young men, was forced to station myself a good way off. During the lecture a great crash was heard; and the company, fearing that the building was about to come down, rushed towards the door. Presently, however, it appeared that there was no cause for alarm, and they endeavoured to resume their places; but, in consequence of the confusion, the reserved seats were now occupied by those who could first get into them; and I, pressing forwards, secured one of them. Sir Joshua concluded the lecture by saying, with great emotion: 'And I should desire that the last words which I should pronounce in this Academy and from this place might be the name of―

K

Michael Angelo.' As he descended from the rostrum, Burke went up to him, took his hand, and said,—

'The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear

So charming left his voice, that he awhile

Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.""

When the crash was heard, Sir Joshua sat silent and unmoved in his chair; the floor, which had only sunk a little, was soon supported, the company resumed their seats, and he recommenced his discourse with perfect composure. He afterwards remarked, that, if the floor had fallen, the whole company must have been killed, and the arts in Britain, as a consequence, thrown back two hundred years.

REYNOLDS'S KINDNESS.

The great painter's goodnature, and his liking to contribute to the enjoyment of young persons, was proverbial, and there is not a better evidence of a kindly disposition. This amiable feeling is shown in the following incident.

In the year 1790, a youth named Buckingham, a scholar at Mr. King's Academy, Chapel-street, Soho, presuming upon his father's knowledge of Sir Joshua Reynolds, called in Leicester-square, and asked the President of the Royal Academy if he would draw him a flag for the next breaking-up of the school. Sir Joshua kindly told him if he would call on a certain day, he would see what could be done. The youth went, accompanied by a schoolfellow,* when Sir Joshua presented them with a flag, about a yard square, on which he had painted the king's coat-of-arms. This flag was accordingly borne in the breaking-up procession to the Yorkshire Stingo, in the New Road-an honour to the school, and a still greater honour to him who had painted it, and given up his valuable time to promote their holiday amusements.

SIR JOSHUA AND HIS PET BIRD.

The classic fable of the unstrung bow is frequently illustrated in the lives of great men, who, in simple recreation bordering upon child's play, often seek relief from society. Sir Joshua is related to have made a companion of a little bird which used to perch on his hand and with this feathered favourite,

:

* Mr. Williamson, the artist, by whom this anecdote was related to Mr. Roffe, the engraver, in 1830. See Mirror, vol. xvi. p. 297.

he was often found by his visitors, pacing his room, and speaking to it as if it were endowed with intelligence beyond instinct. One summer morning, the bird which was thus fondly caressed, was tempted by an open window, to fly away; and Sir Joshua rushed forth into Leicester-square, and there for hours in vain sought the lost favourite of his spare minutes.

"RALPH'S EXHIBITION."

Malone tells us that Sir Joshua always considered the possession of the works of Titian, Vandyke, and Rembrandt, the best kind of wealth; and that instead of saving money, he laid it out faster than he got it, in purchasing the finest examples of art that could be procured. The collection of pictures, prints, and drawings, which he thus acquired, he offered, before his death, to the Royal Academy, at a sum much below their value; but the Academicians could not avail themselves of the offer. He then made a public exhibition of the collection in a room which he hired in the Haymarket; and, as he could no longer work at his profession, he employed himself in composing and arranging the catalogue. Sir Joshua gave the profits arising from this exhibition to his old servant, Ralph Kirkley: hence it was called "Ralph's Exhibition."

REYNOLDS'S DECLINING SIGHT.

In July, 1789, when Sir Joshua had nearly finished the portrait of Lady Beauchamp, (the last female portrait, according to Malone, he ever painted,) his eyesight was so affected that he found it difficult to proceed. "He laid down his pencil, sat a little while in mute consideration, and never lifted it more." This touching record is by Cunningham.

Miss Palmer, December 26, 1789, wrote to her cousin, describing her being called from Devonshire by the sad occurrence: Sir Joshua, before she left town, had a complaint in his eye, but it was thought of no consequence.

"Alas (writes Miss Palmer,) he very soon totally lost it, and when I returned to him, he was under the most violent apprehension that the other was going too. But thank God, these fears vanished. and although one eye is gone, he sees as well as ever with the other. However, the dread of what may happen, if he uses it much, entirely deters him from either

painting, writing, or reading; for the last four months I have spent all my time in reading to him, and writing all that he wants to have done. He now amuses himself by sometimes cleaning or mending a picture, for his ruling passion still continues in force, and he enjoys his pictures as much as

ever.

"His health is perfect, and his spirits good, surprisingly so, considering what a loss an eye is to him; and as it is the gutta serena which is affected, there is not the least chance of his ever recovering his sight. I expected he would have been depressed by such an event, almost to melancholy; but far from it, he enjoys company (in a quiet way), and loves a game of cards as well as ever."

Mr. Cotton has engraved from Sir Joshua's pocket-book his record of the calamity-Monday, the 13th of July-"prevented by my eye beginning to be obscured." Still, there are several subsequent entries, from which it may be inferred that Sir Joshua worked more or less upon other portraits. Miss Palmer, writing in March, 1790, speaks of his still painting occasionally; and the author of the Testimonials dates his entire cessation from painting in Nov. 1791; "from which period, (he says) Sir Joshua never painted more,” and adds: "His last male portrait was that of Charles James Fox, and when the last touches were given to this picture, the hand of Reynolds fell to rise no more."

DEATH OF SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

Sir Joshua now became much depressed in spirits, from his apprehension that a tumour, accompanied by inflammation which took place above the eye that perished, might affect the other; and it could not be dispersed. Under these infirmities, he resigned for ever the Presidency of the Royal Academy. He now grew melancholy, and sorrowfully silent. A concealed malady was sapping his life and spirits. Mr. Burke says: "His illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheerful fortitude, without the least mixture of anything irritable or querulous, agreeable to the placid and even tenor of his whole life. He had from the beginning of his malady, a distinct view of his dissolution, which he contemplated with an entire composure, that nothing but the innocence, integrity, and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected submission to the will of Providence, could bestow."

"I have been fortunate," said Reynolds, "in long good

health and constant success, and I ought not to complain. I know that all things on earth must have an end, and now

I am come to mine." With these simple words of resignation, Sir Joshua expired, without any visible symptoms of pain, on the night of Thursday, February 23, 1792, in the 69th year of his age.

Next day, his body was opened by Mr. Hunter, the eminent surgeon, when his liver was found to have become præternaturally enlarged, and to have increased from about five pounds to nearly eleven pounds. Though during the whole of his illness from December to Feb. 23, he felt and therefore thought that his malady was mortal, he submitted to the Divine Will with perfect resignation, at the same time following the prescriptions of his physicians, though with little or no hope of their being useful. He died with very little pain.

Mr. Malone left among his papers the following touching details of the last hours of Sir Joshua.

"The dear friend so often mentioned in these papers, Sir Joshua Reynolds, died at his house in Leicester Fields, (Feb. 23, 1792,) at half-past eight o'clock... He had long enjoyed such constant health, looked so young, and was so active, that I thought, though he was sixty-nine years old, he was as likely to live eight or ten years longer as any of his younger friends.

"On our return from an excursion to Mr. Burke's at Beaconsfield, last September, we alighted from his coach, and while the horses baited at the half-way house, we walked five miles very smartly in a warm day without his being fatigued. About three years ago, he found some defect in his sight, whilst painting the picture of Lady Beauchamp, if I remember right, and then determined to paint no more. Soon afterwards he entirely lost the sight of his left eye. From that period he became very apprehensive of losing the other also, yet his uniform cheerfulness never forsook him till very lately.

"I cannot help thinking that we should not have lost this most amiable man for some years, had there not been want of exertion, combined with some want of skill in his physicians. In September he was much distressed by swelling and inflammation over the lost eye, owing as has since been thought, to some extravasated blood. For this Mr. Cruikshank, who was called in as surgeon, bled him with leeches, purged and blistered him repeatedly, all in vain; for the swelling and