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Updated: June 7, 2025
Lord Longford, just come to town, met us yesterday at the Exhibition of Sir Joshua Reynolds's pictures. Some of these are excellent: his children, from the sublime Samuel to the arch Gipsy, are admirable. We hope to see Mrs. Siddons act on the 25th; it was thought impossible to get a box, but the moment my father pronounced the name Edgeworth, Mr. Brandon, the box-keeper, said he should have one.
"And then?" said Constance, leaning forward, her face illumined by her shining eyes. Crondall drew a long breath. "And then then Britain will have something to say to the Kaiser." As we rose from the table, George Stairs laid his hand on Reynolds's shoulder. "Deep waters these, my friend," said he, "for simple parsons from the backwoods. But our part is plain, and close at hand.
In one of his memorandum-books I find, 'Sunday, went to church at Streatham. Templo valedixi cum osculo . He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe often at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and other places, and was a good deal with him at Brighthelmston this autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated conversation. Mr.
On my twentieth birthday, which occurred soon after my first appearance, Lawrence sent me a magnificent proof-plate of Reynolds's portrait of my aunt as the "Tragic Muse," beautifully framed, and with this inscription: "This portrait, by England's greatest painter, of the noblest subject of his pencil, is presented to her niece and worthy successor, by her most faithful humble friend and servant, Lawrence."
And so might Joan's richer sister in the old carved chair, under the eyes of Reynolds's majestic lady, grow accustomed to the coming and going of Darby's richer brother, confirm herself in the habit of taking narcotic conversation, talk of last night's dinner and to-morrow's dance, until he seemed to become essential to her existence. All this I explained to the Professor.
Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had fainted.
On Wednesday, April 7, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. I have not marked what company was there.
He had a self-control and a sound sense, which were not common in his generation; we see them in the tranquil, contemplative eyes of Reynolds's portraits, ready in a moment to gleam with humour. By reason of his unfailing good-nature, he was always at the service of a friend.
When I sat again on the great divan, I said to myself that, after all, the alien mind who designed this room had worked with cunning; he must have seen in his fancy the very picture that was now so delightful to my eyes the gray old fireplace with its tall columns wound with vines whose delicate leaves quivered as the firelight fanned them; before it Penelope, a slender figure, softly drawn in the evening's shadow, bent over the low tea-table as she worked with the rebellious lamp; from above, looking down kindly, half smiling, Reynolds's majestic lady, frilled and furbelowed; at her feet a giant white bear, its long claws gripping the polished floor, its jaws distended fiercely as though it stood guard, ready to spring at him who dared to cross the charmed circle drawn by the glowing coals.
I accompanied him in Sir Joshua Reynolds's coach, to the entry of Bolt-court. He asked me whether I would not go with him to his house; I declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. We bade adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage.
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