As Sunday is one of them, I do not know whether I may propose to you to employ it in the manner you mentioned to me once.* Sir Godfrey called employing the pencil the prayer of a painter, and affirmed it to be his proper way of serving God, by the talent he gave him. I am sure, in this instance, it is serving your friend; and you know we are allowed to do that (nay even to help a neighbour's ox or ass) on the sabbath; which though it may seem a general precept, yet in one sense particularly applies to you, who have helped many a human ox, and many a human ass to the likeness of man, not to say of God. Believe me, dear Sir, with all good wishes for yourself and your family, (the happiness of which ties I know by experience, and have learned to value from the late danger of losing the best of mine,) Your, &c. their common friends, and particularly of Swift and of Bolingbroke. Hudson, the son-in-law and successor to Richardson as an artist, was the master of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, if he was not indebted to his instructor for the superior style which he adopted, obtained at least in this school of art that predilection for his profession and knowledge of the works of the early painters, which opened to him the path to excellence, and induced him to form a large collection of pictures and drawings, amongst the latter of which were a great number of those which had formerly been in the collection of Richardson. * Probably in painting or etching his portrait. LETTER XXII. TO MR. RICHARDSON. Twickenham, June 10, 1733. As I know you and I mutually desire to see one another, I hope that this day our wishes would have met, and brought you hither. And this for the very reason which possibly might hinder your coming, that my poor mother is dead.* I thank God, her death was as easy, as her life was innocent; and as it cost her not a groan, or even a sigh, there is yet upon her countenance such an expression of tranquillity, nay, almost of pleasure, that it is even amiable to behold it. It would afford the finest image of a saint expired, that ever painting drew:† and it would be the greatest obligation which even that obliging art could ever bestow on a friend, if you would come and sketch it for me. I am sure, if there be no very preva 1 * Mrs. Pope died the 7th of June, 1733, aged 93. Warburton. † One of the best of Richardson's portraits is that of our author, formerly in Dr. Mead's collection; who wrote under it the two following indifferent, harsh lines: Popius, ingenio, doctrinâ et carminis arte, Non habet, Invidia hoc nec neget ipsa, parem. The only piece of our author's own painting, is the head of Betterton, in the possession of the Earl of Mansfield. Warton. Not the only piece; there is a portrait of him at Arundel Castle, belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. Bowles. A drawing was accordingly made, and a print has been engraved from it; in which she is called by mistake, "daughter of Samuel Cooper, painter." lent obstacle, you will leave any common business to do this; and I hope to see you this evening as late as you will, or to-morrow morning as early, before this winter flower is faded. I will defer her interment till to-morrow night. I know you love me, or I could not have written this-I could not (at this time) have written at all-Adieu! May you die as happily! Your, &c. LETTER XXIII. TO MR. RICHARDSON. It is hardly possible to tell you the joy your pencil gave me in giving me another friend, so much the same! and which (alas, for mortality!) will outlast the other.* Posterity will, through your means, see the man whom it will for ages honour, vindicate, and applaud, when envy is no more, and when (as I have already said in the Essay to which you are so partial) The sons shall blush the fathers were his foes. That Essay has many faults, but the poem you sent me has but one, and that I can easily forgive. Yet I would not have it printed for the world, and yet I would not have it kept unprinted neitherbut all in good time. I am glad you publish your Milton. Bentley will be angry at you, and at * This probably refers to the etching of Lord Bolingbroke, by Richardson. + This was the joint production of Richardson and his son, and me too shortly for what I could not help, a Satirical Poem on Verbal Criticism by Mr. Mallet, which he has inscribed to me; but the poem itself is good* (another cause of anger to any critic.) As for myself, I resolve to go on in my quiet, calm, moral course, taking no sort of notice of man's anger, or woman's scandal, with Virtue in my eyes, and Truth upon my tongue. Adieu. DEAR SIR, LETTER XXIV. TO MR. RICHARDSON. November 21. EVERY thing was welcome to me in your kind letter, except the occasion of it, the confinement you are under. I am glad you count the days when I do not see you: but it was but half an one that I was in town upon business with Dr. Mead, and returned to render an account of it. I shall in the course of the winter probably be was published in 1734, under the title of " Explanatory Notes and Remarks on Milton's Paradise Lost; with the Life of the Author, and a Discourse on the Poem, 8vo." Dr. Warton observes that it contains "many judicious and curious remarks, adulterated with some that are trifling enough." * The Poem was a very fulsome piece of flattery to Pope, and a pretty exact imitation of his manner, and contained much contemptible and illiberal abuse of many useful and illustrious critics, with whom Mallet was little acquainted. Mallet's Life of Lord Bacon was too highly commended by Chesterfield and his friends. He once intended to write the History of the Exclusion Bill. † He hints probably at Lord Harvey and Lady Mary. Warton. Bowles. an evening visitant to you, if you sit at home, though I hope it will not be by compulsion or lameness. We may take a cup of sack together, and chatter like two parrots, which are at least more reputable and manlike animals than the grasshoppers, to which Homer likens old men. I am glad you sleep better. I sleep in company, and wake at night, which is vexatious: if you did so, you at your age, would make verses. As to my health, it will never mend ; but I will complain less of it, when I find it incorrigible. But for the news of my quitting Twit'nam for Bath, inquire into my years, if they are past the bounds of dotage? Ask my eyes, if they can see, and my nostrils, if they can smell? To prefer rocks and dirt to flowery meads and silver Thames, and brimstone and fogs to roses and sunshine. When I arrive at these sensations, I may settle at Bath, of which I never yet dreamt, further than to live just out of the sulphurous pit, and at the edge of the fogs at Mr. Allen's, for a month or so. I like the place so little, that health itself should not draw me thither, though friendship has twice or thrice. Having answered your questions, I desire to hear if you have any commands. If the first be to come to you, it is probable I shall, before you can send them so round about as to Twit'nam, for I have lived of late at Battersea.* Adieu. * With Lord Bolingbroke, who resided there. |