IN WHICH IS RELATED THE DISCOVERY OF A CERTAIN PORTRAIT AT DONCASTER.
Call in the Barber! If the tale be long
He'll cut it short, I trust.
MIDDLETON.
Here I must relate a circumstance which occurred during the few hours
of my last, and by me ever-to-be-remembered visit to Doncaster. As we
were on the way from the Old Angel Inn to the Mansion House, adjoining
which stood, or to speak more accurately had stood, the Kebla to which
the steps of my pilgrimage were bent, we were attracted by a small but
picturesque groupe in a shaving-shop, exhibited in strong relief by
the light of a blazing fire, and of some glaring lamps. It was late in
autumn and on a Saturday evening, at which time those persons in
humble life, who cannot shave themselves, and whose sense of religion
leads them to think that what may be done on the Saturday night ought
not to be put off till the Sunday morning, settle their weekly account
with their beards. There was not story enough in the scene to have
supplied Wilkie with a subject for his admirable genius to work upon,
but he would certainly have sketched the groupe if he had seen it as
we did. Stopping for a minute, at civil distance from the door, we
observed a picture over the fire-place, and it seemed so remarkable
that we asked permission to go in and look at it more nearly. It was
an unfinished portrait, evidently of no common person, and by no
common hand; and as evidently it had been painted many years ago. The
head was so nearly finished that nothing seemed wanting to complete
the likeness; the breast and shoulders were faintly sketched in a sort
of whitewash which gave them the appearance of being covered with a
cloth. Upon asking the master of the shop if he could tell us whose
portrait it was, Mambrino, who seemed to be a good-natured fellow, and
was pleased at our making the enquiry, replied that it had been in his
possession many years, before he knew himself. A friend of his had
made him a present of it, because, he said, the gentleman looked by
his dress as if he was just ready to be shaved, and had an apron under
his chin; and therefore his shop was the properest place for it. One
day however the picture attracted the notice of a passing stranger, as
it had done ours, and he recognized it for a portrait of Garrick. It
certainly was so; and any one who knows Garrick's face may satisfy
himself of this when he happens to be in Doncaster. Mambrino's shop is
not far from the Old Angel, and on the same side of the street.
My companion told me that when we entered the shop he had begun to
hope it might prove to be a portrait of my old friend: he seemed even
to be disappointed that we had not fallen upon such a discovery,
supposing that it would have gratified me beyond measure. But upon
considering in my own mind if this would have been the case, two
questions presented themselves. The first was, whether knowing as I
did that the Doctor never sate for his portrait, and knowing also
confidentially the reason why he never could be persuaded to do so, or
rather the feeling which possessed him on that subject,—knowing these
things, I say, the first question was, whether if a stolen likeness
had been discovered, I ought to have rejoiced in the discovery. For as
I certainly should have endeavoured to purchase the picture, I should
then have had to decide whether or not it was my duty to destroy it;
for which,—or on the other hand for preserving it,—so many strong
reasons and so many refined ones, might have been produced, _pro_ and
_con_, that I could not have done either one or the other, without
distrusting the justice of my own determination; if I preserved it, I
should continually be self-accused for doing wrong; if I destroyed it,
self-reproaches would pursue me for having done what was
irretrievable; so that while I lived I should never have been out of
my own Court of Conscience. And let me tell you, Reader, that to be
impleaded in that Court is even worse than being brought into the
Court of Chancery.
Secondly, the more curious question occurred, whether if there had
been a portrait of Dr. Dove, it would have been like him.
“That” says Mr. Everydayman, “is as it might happen.”
“Pardon me, Sir; my question does not regard happening. Chance has
nothing to do with the matter. The thing queried is whether it could,
or could not have been.”
And before I proceed to consider that question, I shall take the
counsel which Catwg the Wise, gave to his pupil Taliesin; and which by
these presents I recommend to every reader who may be disposed to
consider himself for the time being as mine:
“Think before thou speakest;
First, what thou shalt speak;
Secondly, why thou shouldest speak;
Thirdly, to whom thou mayest have to speak;
Fourthly, about whom (or what) thou art to speak;
Fifthly, what will come from what thou mayest speak;
Sixthly, what may be the benefit from what thou shalt speak;
Seventhly, who may be listening to what thou shalt speak.
“Put thy word on thy fingers' ends before thou speakest it, and turn
it these seven ways before thou speakest it; and there will never come
any harm from what thou shalt say!
“Catwg the Wise delivered this counsel to Taliesin, Chief of Bards, in
giving him his blessing.”