t; rather plump
than emaciated, notwithstanding his complaints; about 5 foot 5 inches;
fair wig, lightish cloth coat, all black besides; one hand generally in
his bosom, the other, a cane in it, which he leans upon under the skirts
of his coat usually, that it may imperceptibly serve him as a support
when attacked by sudden tremors or startings and dizziness, which too
frequently attack him, but, thank God, not so often as formerly; looking
directly foreright, as passers by would imagine, but observing all that
stirs on either hand of him without moving his short neck; hardly ever
turning back; of a light-brown complexion; teeth not yet failing him;
smoothish-faced and ruddy cheeked; at some times looking to be about
sixty-five, at others much younger' (really sixty); 'a regular even pace
stealing away ground rather than seeming to rid it; a grey eye, too
often overclouded by mistinesses from the head; by chance lively--very
lively it will be if he have hopes of seeing a lady whom he loves and
honours; his eye always on the ladies; if they have very large hoops, he
looks down and supercilious and as if he would be thought wise, but
perhaps the sillier for that; as he approaches a lady his eye is never
fixed first upon her face, but upon her feet and thence he raises it up
pretty quickly for a dull eye; and one would think (if we thought him at
all worthy of observation) that from her air and the last beheld (her
face) he sets her down in his mind as _so_ and _so_, and then passes on
to the next object he meets; only then looking back, if he greatly
likes or dislikes, as if he would see if the lady appear to be all of a
piece in the one light or the other.' After this admirable likeness we
can appreciate better the two coloured engravings in the letters.
Richardson looks like a plump white mouse in a wig, at once vivacious
and timid. We see him in one picture toddling along the Pantiles at
Tunbridge-Wells, in the neighbourhood of the great Mr. Pitt and Speaker
Onslow and the bigamous Duchess of Kingston and Colley Cibber and the
cracked and shrivelled-up Whiston and a (perhaps not the famous) Mr.
Johnson in company with a bishop. In the other, he is sitting in his
parlour with its stiff old-fashioned furniture and a glimpse into the
garden, reading 'Sir Charles Grandison' to the admirable Miss Mulso,
afterwards Mrs. Chapone, and a small party, inclusive of the artist,
Miss Highmore, to whom we owe sincere gratitude for thi